


Ready or Knot

by La_Matrona



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Blow Jobs, Daddy Kink, Dirty Talk, F/M, Finger Sucking, Flirting, Hand Jobs, I'm basically just throwing all my kinks at this story and will add them here as they come, Like Really Filthy Talk, Like super AU, Masturbation, Nipple Play, Non-Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, POV First Person, Pet Names, SO, Snarky Gryffindors Come To That, Snarky Slytherins, Stripping, Vaginal Fingering, Werewolf, floo sex, good girl hermione, in diverse places., orgasms galore, this is au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-01
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:55:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 74,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23954185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Matrona/pseuds/La_Matrona
Summary: When Hermione Granger picks up an older man at a club, she isn't expecting the choice to have lasting consequences. An AU, Wizarding World, Erotic Love Story.
Relationships: Regulus Black & Hermione Granger, Regulus Black/Hermione Granger
Comments: 711
Kudos: 1520
Collections: Good Girl Hermione, harry potter fics (smut/oc/timetravel/aus)





	1. Is that how you speak to a lady?

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Friends, I've started a new story and it's all Shaya's fault. I'll be updating tags to reflect chapters as they are posted. There are currently 4 chapters written and the story is fully plotted. I will be posting on a (hopefully) weekly schedule until completion. I hope this brightens your quarantines a little. <3 LM

The lift was cold, but his hands were Fiendfyre on my hips. I hadn’t realized at the bar how large they were, but I could feel them spanning around the widest point of my lower half, the thumbs meeting almost at the small of my back and the fingers holding me still in the center of the cramped space. He leant forward, reaching past me to push one of the buttons on the control panel. I felt his stubbled jaw rub against the bare flesh of my shoulder as he did so, and the sensation sent a shiver down my neck and straight to my nipples. 

He paused, looking down the front of me as I stilled, and then he chuckled as he retreated, standing tall and still behind me. 

“Nervous?” He asked. 

“Hardly.” It was a lie. It wasn’t my first time going home with a man for a single night of bliss, but there was something about  _ him _ that made it all seem brand-new. The other men had all been… young. Men, certainly, but little more than boys when compared to the one currently holding me in place. There was something naughty about the knowledge, about the peppering of silver in his dark, wavy hair. 

The lift reached its destination before I could examine the thought any further, and with a soft ding the doors slid open. His hands on my hips tightened just enough that he was gripping me, and pushing me forward into the room beyond. 

I thought he’d been taking me up to some employee’s only area, a storage room or a lounge where they got to unwind in private, but instead I was looking at a bloody penthouse. 

“Is this yours?” It was the first thing I could think to say, and I winced as I realized how rude it must come off, how much it made me sound like the spoiled rich girl, surprised that the man she had picked up at the bar might have means of his own. I hated it.

“Yes,” he said, and to my relief, he sounded amused. 

“It’s lovely.” And because I couldn’t help it, I eyed the luxury. I’d grown up with nice things. I knew my Gucci from my Chanel because anything less would have been a disappointment to my mother, and I knew a thousand pound chandelier from a hundred thousand pound one for the same reason… and that’s how I knew that the man who was striding confidently into the room beyond wasn’t just the owner of a penthouse, he was the  _ filthy rich _ owner of a penthouse. 

Not that mattered. I wasn’t here for his money, I had it in spades. I wanted what I’d seen at the bar. That perfectly controlled exterior mussed so thoroughly he’d never be able to part his hair just so again. I wanted him to lose his mind over me, to want in me so badly he’d say anything,  _ do _ anything. There was power in that, in being wanted, and it was something I’d come to cherish since I’d first gone to bed with a man. 

“Clothes off then.” 

My eyes widened at the command, and I realized he was on the sofa opposite me now, sprawled across it with one ankle over the opposite knee and his arm extended over the back of the seat. He looked expectant, as if he were accustomed to being minded. 

I narrowed my gaze. 

“Is that how you speak to a lady?” 

“No,” he said, his voice low and rumbling. He rubbed his jaw and then planted both feet firmly on the floor as he leant forward. Elbows on his knees, he continued to eye me, and the look he was giving me shot straight down to my sex. “That’s how I talk to naughty little girls who throw themselves at me in nightclubs. Now. Clothes. Off.” 

For a moment, I wasn’t sure how to react. Had he just called me a— How dare he? But despite my indignation, I could feel my cheeks growing hot and my panties soaking at his words. No one had ever said something so crass to me before, and I knew I should be offended, that the part of me that wanted to object and demand an apology was the sane, intelligent part of me that had won awards and prestigious positions on her own merit… But another part of me—a very real, very loud part—wanted him to say it again. 

He watched me as I warred with myself, and the moment I saw him bite the inside of his lip, as if he were trying to keep himself from saying anything more, as if he were giving me space to decide on my own, I knew I was lost. 

I moved slowly, making sure he could see everything from his seat across the room. I set down my clutch and reached back to unzip the tight little dress I’d managed to get myself into earlier that evening. I tried to keep eye contact with him as I worked, but it was more difficult than I’d anticipated, and I had to lean down to unbuckle one of the stiletto’s I’d been torturing myself with all night. When I was done and left only in my bra and panties, the nerves which had settled into my belly had bloomed into a bouquet of self-doubt. I had to force myself to look back at the man sitting there, still fully clothed as he watched me work. 

“Everything,” was all he said, his words slightly muffled behind one hand as his grey eyes glittered in the dim light. 

My breath caught and I hesitated, and in the next second he was up and striding toward me. He stopped several feet away, but his sudden nearness made my heart race and my mouth water. 

“What’s your name?” He asked, and the question was so casual he might have been asking me over dinner. 

“H-Hermione.” I swallowed. “Hermione Granger.” 

“Hermione,” he echoed, turning the name over on his tongue as if it were unique. And perhaps it was, I didn’t suppose he’d know very many living here in Madrid. “Are you a Muggleborn?” 

The question took me by surprise, and I suddenly felt every single inch of my nakedness. 

“Does it matter?” I snapped. 

He snorted softly. “No. But it gives me perspective.” 

“On what?” I asked, still feeling defensive. My blood-status had never been a real problem. My friends all accepted me for who I was, and took pains to explain any aspects of wizarding culture that were largely ‘understood’ but which were foreign to Muggleborns like myself. The only time I’d ever faced any real prejudice, the offending student had been summarily sent home and allowed to return only on the condition of my approval. I’d heard of blood purists before, and I knew many of the older Pure Blood Families had once been mired in such philosophies… but to be faced with it here? It was a shock. 

“On whether or not telling you I’m the head of my house and used to getting my way will make a difference in how quickly you move.”

“Oh.” The relief I felt flood through me was almost as warm as the man’s smile when he looked over me again, trailing his gaze from my head down to my toes and back up to linger on my breasts. Merlin, had my nipples ever been so bloody tight?

“I want all of it off, Hermione.” He repeated. “Be a good girl for me, won’t you?”

I bit my lip, mustering up the courage I needed to reach behind myself and unclasp the brassier that stood between his eyes and my breasts. Soon, I was in nothing but a thong in front of him, and the sound he made when the cups of my bra peeled away and then dropped to the floor was immensely gratifying. 

“Perfect,” he said, so low I wasn’t sure he’d meant for me to hear. And then he cleared his throat and stared pointedly at my knickers. This time, I was quicker to obey, and before long they lay over the puddle of my dress on the floor. He sighed, one hand running up through his hair again and then rubbing his jaw before he started to circle me. 

I wasn’t sure what he was looking for,  _ why  _ he was inspecting me… but the hungry look in his gaze put me at ease. This was desire, pure and wanton. I knew what that meant, I knew where it led. 

“What do I call you, then?” I asked as he finished his circle and looked back up to meet my eyes. He was looking confident again, his eyes doing that intense thing they’d done at the bar. 

“When?” He asked. The question took me by surprise, and my breath caught as I looked at him in confusion. 

“Umm… now?” 

He shrugged, and gave me an indulgent smile. 

“What would you like to call me?” He asked, and he took a step closer, close enough he could reach out and touch me if he wanted to. My thoughts went suddenly, hideously blank. 

“Uh…” 

Another step closer. 

“Come now, darling girl, surely you can think of something.” 

Merlin, when he called me that it made me feel all sorts of ways. Confusing ways. Aroused ways. The only man who’d ever called me his girl before was my father, and I’d never harbored any fantasies about  _ that _ sort of relationship… but here… now… The man’s hair was thick and dark with just a few silver strands and stern lines to betray his age. He  _ was _ probably old enough to be my father… and somehow the taboo only excited me further. 

“I could call you ‘daddy’,” I teased, testing the word on my tongue and finding it more arousing than I’d expected. 

His smile suddenly turned into a full on grin, familiar somehow as his wolfish, silver eyes seemed to drink in the sight of me. 

“I like that,” he said.

Merlin, what on earth was I getting myself into? 

“Does that mean you’ll do as I tell you?” he asked, sounding completely serious as he circled me again. “That you’ll be a respectful little girl?” 

I snorted and the sound was louder and brasher than I’d intended. He looked up with a sharp gaze, his bright eyes piercing. 

“Something funny?”

I bit my lip. “I’ll be twenty in the morning.” I confessed. “Tomorrow’s my birthday.” 

“Hmm.” The sound seemed to rumble through him and he took another step toward me. There were scant inches between us now, and I was reminded of just how  _ large _ he was. He was at least a foot taller than I was— which wasn’t hard to do, admittedly— and as he peered down at me I felt gooseflesh prickle along my chest. 

He took a single, deep breath, and I felt his hand on my chin, tilting my face up toward his, where he met my eyes with his. 

“Perhaps a gift is in order, then,” he murmured. In the next moment, he was leaning down as he wrapped one solid forearm around my waist and hitched me up onto my toes. The look in his eye right before he kissed me was consuming, and it made my whole body flush as he took my mouth with his and my breasts pressed up against his chest, bare nipples brushing against the smooth fabric of his button up shirt.

I liked this. I liked it very much. The first kiss was always heady, but here, with this man, it was addictive. He kissed as if it belonged to him, as if  _ I _ belonged to him, and I couldn’t bring myself to care because it was so bloody good. His lips worked in tandem with his teeth and his tongue to tease me, to stroke me. He enticed me with his drugging kisses and as he did one hand settled on my hip, pulling me flush against him as his thumb worked little circles over bare flesh. 

I groaned into his mouth and the sound only seemed to spur him on. His hand at my hip skated up to tangle in my hair, fisting gently, but hard enough to take control of the angle of my response. He moved me, opening me to him further until he was completely in control, until his tongue was free to explore me at his leisure and the arm wrapped round my waist was all that was keeping me upright. 

Soon, the kiss slowed, and he began to nibble at my lower lip as I panted against him. My whole body was hot, enflamed by his touch and by the heady desire that swirled between us. I throbbed between my thighs and my nipples ached in stiff, peaked points he could surely feel against him. It was unnatural, this instant response. At least for me. 

In the past, it had taken the men I’d been with ages to arouse me. It wasn’t that I hadn’t enjoyed my encounters— I’d had at least two boyfriends who had been attentive lovers despite their age, and who had made damn sure I was left satisfied— but this instant heat, the slickness pooling between my thighs after a single kiss… it was new and different and the slightest bit frightening. If this man with his shining eyes and stern expressions could affect me so quickly and so deeply, how could I hope to remain in control? 

And that was important— the control. I needed it. Needed it like I needed to breathe or eat or fuck. I needed that power, because not having it meant I was nothing, meant I was small and powerless. I’d learned that the hard way at the knee of a man who had always come first, always seen his child as a nuisance to be distracted with pretty dresses and other material things. Unless I took initiative and made my own choices, unless I scheduled and planned and plotted down to the last detail, I was forgettable. 

But here, with this man’s lips trailing from the corner of my mouth to my ear, I felt anything but. I felt… wanted. Desired. Cherished. 

“Look at you,” He said once his mouth had reached my ear. He was whispering, but I was riveted by every word. “Look how lovely you look with your nipples all stiff, waiting to be plucked. Would you like me to do that for you? Would you like it if I touched your pretty breasts?”

God. The way he spoke to me! If it had been anyone else, I’d never have allowed it, but damned if the words didn’t just arouse me further now. 

“Answer me,” he demanded. His arms slackened and he shifted backward enough to peer down at me. His eyes were so bright now they looked almost like twin moons as he devoured me with his gaze. 

“Y-yes,” I said at last, and a shiver rippled from the top of my head downward. I trembled with it, and his expression seemed to soften as he took notice. 

“Are you cold?” he asked. 

I shook my head, but he made a disbelieving nose all the same, and then scooped me up effortlessly against him, my knees draped over one of his arms and my back solidly against the other. “You mustn’t lie to me, Hermione.” he said, and his words were clipped as he strode through the room and into a hallway which led us to another, this one dominated by a large bed and dark green coverlet. 

He set me down on the edge of it and then pulled his wand, casting a warming charm on the space that rolled over me in a pleasant wave. I felt muscles I hadn’t realized were tense begin to relax and sighed. 

“Better?” he asked, dropping to his knees in front of me. His face was only a little below mine now, and he ran his large hands, just the slightest bit rough, over the tops of my thighs and back down to my knees. 

I swallowed hard. 

“Yes.” 

And then he smirked again, and I was struck once more by that sense of familiarity. I had seen an expression like his before, I was certain of it. But before I could think any more about it, he was leaning in to kiss me once more, his hands sweeping up my sides to settle full on my breasts. 

“Oh!” 

“Mmm. Stay still, baby girl.” 

Staying still was nearly impossible. His mouth moved slowly from mine, down my front to settle at my breasts as his hands wrapped around my ribs, keeping me upright. The first touch of his lips to the tip of one nipple was electric. I jolted and he chuckled against my flesh before opening wide and pulling the whole tip of my breast into his mouth. 

“Fuuuck.” I groaned the word aloud as he sucked hard, drawing blood to the peak as he pulled and making my nipple tingle with unfamiliar heat. I’d had my breasts played with in the past, but nothing like this, nothing so deep or consuming or  _ intense _ . It was like he wanted to drink me in, wanted to make me feel things I’d never imagined before. It went straight to my pussy and had me aching. 

There was a soft popping sound as he unlatched and tilted his face upward to look at me. “You’ve got a filthy little mouth,” he mused. 

“Sorry.” My apology was automatic and he quirked a brow at the word. 

“I didn’t say I disapproved,” he teased. “Not here, at least, when you’re bare on my bed and wet for me.” He breathed deeply again, his dark lashes fluttering shut over those brilliant irises for a moment before his eyes opened again and he grinned rakishly up at me. I had the oddest sense that he could smell me, smell my arousal dripping down my thighs and soaking onto his bed. “And you are wet for me, aren’t you, kitten?” 

The question and the endearment made me want to arch back on the bed and show him. And why shouldn’t I? He was clearly the sort of man who liked to give directions, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t participate, couldn’t entice him to do the sorts of things we both wanted him to do. Besides, maybe doing so would give me the same sense of power I’d been looking forward to earlier in the night, the sense that I was in charge and desired more than anything else in my lover’s world in that moment. 

I leaned back on the bed, splaying myself over the coverlet and skating my hands up over my breasts to cup them as I spread my thighs and arched my back just a bit. 

“See for yourself,” I invited. 

I could hear the hitch in his breath and the sound was so supremely satisfying that I grinned. But then he didn’t move, didn’t lean forward to look or touch or lick the way I had been hoping. He just stayed there, taking deep breaths until I grew self conscious enough to glance up at him. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

His question was heated but firm, and I bit my lower lip before responding. 

“I thought you—” I didn’t know how to continue so I stopped, pressing my lips together firmly as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the bed between my splayed thighs and grabbing my waist casually with his hands. 

“Thought what? Thought you’d lay back and I’d gobble you up? Thought you’d manipulate me into making you come?” 

His questions were so direct my cheeks burned. 

“No, I—” 

“So that isn’t what you want?” He let his hands trail down until his thumbs met just over my cleft and he put subtle pressure downward, just enough that I could feel it in my now pulsing clit.

“Oh god!” 

He chuckled darkly. 

“You don’t need to trick me into licking this sweet little cunt, baby girl,” he said, and his voice was thick and gravelly as he leaned his head down and the back of my own met the mattress once more. My eyes fluttered shut again. “All you’ve got to do is ask.” 

He stalled with his breath on my lower lips, waiting for me to respond in some way. My moans and whimpers didn’t seem to move him, and I knew after several, anticipatory moments, what it was he wanted. 

“Please,” I begged, “Lick me.” 

His chest rumbled again. 

“Try that again,” he demanded. 

My hands fisted in the bed cover. 

“Please. Please lick my cunt.” 

“Almost there, sweet girl,” he said, and I could feel his lips brushing over my cleft, could feel the subtle shift of air as he inhaled the scent of me. 

What did he want from me? What were the magic words I could say to get him to touch me? To make me see stars? And then I remembered our conversation earlier, in the living room, and I realized what it was. My pussy flooded with wetness once more, and I heard him growl. 

“Please lick my cunt, Daddy.” 

The growl turned into a satisfied groan and then he was on me, and he wasn’t just using his tongue, he was using his whole bloody marvelous, talented mouth. He circled and stroked and brushed and sucked with such intensity that I screamed, reaching down to clench my fists in his silken black hair. My back arched and I curled into myself as he worked, as he explored me with such enthusiasm that I thought I might have to relearn how to breathe when he was done. 

“Is it good? Shall I continue?” he murmured against my sex, panting as he waited for my response. 

“Yes, for the love of God, yes!”

He didn’t answer again, just leant back down and continued his ministrations, adding in one finger and then a second until I was keening loudly and stuffed so full I wondered in the haze whether he could feel my heart beating around his fingers. And then, he was focusing fully on my pulsing clit, his fingers still inside of me as he began to suckle, his tongue giving me delicious pressure even as he milked hoarse, shuddering cries from me and I came. 

The climax was brilliant. It shone so brightly behind my closed eyelids I thought someone had turned on a light, and I couldn’t bring myself to care. This, here in his mouth with one of his hands on my arse, tilting it up so that he could feast at just the right angle… it was perfection, the bloody pinnacle of pleasure as far as I was concerned. 

“There you are, baby. Let go for me. Give it to me.” His lips were skating over slick, sensitized skin now but his fingers inside of me were curling and moving. I could feel him stroking something secret and wonderful deep inside of me, and it wasn’t letting me come down fully from my peak. 

“Oh shit. Oh  _ Shit _ !” 

I came again without much warning, the orgasm different this time as he latched his mouth back onto my clit and gave several long, pulsing drags. I felt raw, exposed, as if he could see every single inch of me, see every secret I’d been trying to keep when I’d dressed that evening for a night on the town with my friends. It was jarring, but something about it felt so incredibly good. I wanted more. 

“Good girl,” he murmured, popping off of my nub and raining kisses down over my lower lips. His hands were on my hips again now, clenching tightly, as if he were trying to keep from doing other things with his hands. “So good to give me all of this.” He licked slowly, sending shivers up my spine as every ounce of tension in my body melted away and he gave another deep, rumbling growl. “Tastes so damned sweet.” 

And then he paused, waiting for me to look down and meet his gaze again before giving me one of those familiar, reckless grins. 

“You’ll give me more, won’t you?” 

“Oh fuck,” I said, as he burried his smile in my sex once more.

  
  



	2. I don't prance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the amazing reviews on the first chapter! I was and remain absolutely astounded by the response. You're all amazing, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter! -LM

The sun was bright overhead by the time I woke up the next day, safely nestled in my own bed at the family’s hacienda, because after more delectable, orally induced orgasms than I could count, the man I now knew only as ‘Daddy’ had sent me home with a drugging kiss and a look so intense I’d nearly come again just from the glint in his silver eyes. 

“Morning sunshine,” someone called as I found my way out onto the patio outside of the breakfast room where my friends and I had been gathering for the last several days. My birthday had become an event somewhere along the way, and this year it was a week long one thanks to my parent’s property in Spain and the amount of independently wealthy friends I’d somehow managed to acquire in my time at Hogwarts. 

“Daphne,” I acknowledged, passing by the tall blonde and giving her a smile before reaching for a plate already piled high with pastries and eggs. 

“You look like hell, Hermione.” This time it was Draco who spoke from his seat across the patio. He was sprawled over it and wearing a pair of Muggle sunglasses as he cradled a half gone cup of black coffee. 

“Better off than you,” said Harry cheerfully at the table. Beside him, Neville snorted and set his fork down. 

“Where’d you get off to last night anyway?” Daphne asked, watching me with an eager look. 

I scanned the patio, catching sight of Pansy on the other end, and then sat down with my plate beside Neville at the table. 

“Nowhere special,” I lied. 

“Bullshit,” said Draco without skipping a beat. “I saw you prance out with some tallish, dark haired bastard just before midnight.”

My heart beat faster in my chest. 

“I don’t prance.”

“But you do disappear with dark haired men on the Eve of your birthday?” Pansy was eyeing me now from over a newspaper, one brow delicately arched. 

“As if you’ve never had a random shag,” Daphne answered in my place, and then she stuck her tongue out at Pansy. 

“Settle down ladies,” Harry, called, putting a hand on Daphne’s arm. I watched as she smiled up at him and my heart warmed. The two had been dating since seventh year, and were still the most adorable couple in my acquaintance. 

“I’ll do as I like, Potter.”

“You tell him, Pans.” Draco took another sip of his coffee and then held the mug up to salute her.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” This time it was Neville who spoke up, making a rude gesture as he did. 

Draco laughed. 

“Settle down, children,” I chided, pouring myself a coffee every inch as black as Draco’s had been and relishing the smell of it. “No fighting on my birthday.” 

“Oh, is it your birthday?” Neville asked, doing a piss poor job of hiding his smile. 

“Shut it, Longbottom. I’ll take none of your cheek today.”

“Yeah,” said Draco, “shut it.” 

I pointed a finger in his direction. “ _ You _ stop being a prat.” 

“So about this tall dark stranger thing,” interrupted Daphne. 

“Not a stranger anymore, I’d wager,” said Harry, avoiding my gaze as he smirked into his pumpkin juice. The brat.

“Yes, do share details before I’ve eaten,” drawled Draco. “It will make vomiting when you’re done much easier.” 

“Just for that,” I said, feeling petulant now, “I’ll admit that I did indeed have company last night.” 

“Hussy,” said Pansy, though her eyes were sparkling with interest.

“Was it the man who kept offering to buy you drinks?” Asked Daphne, her expression curious. I made a face. That man had been over exuberant and much too enthusiastic. Not to mention a ginger, which was just  _ not _ my type. 

“Hardly,” said Pansy before I had a chance to reply. “She was eyeing some suit by the bar for twenty minutes before I went to dance.” 

I tried to look mysterious but I could feel my cheeks heating and knew they’d all be able to see the truth of her words emblazoned on my face soon. 

“Yes,” I said before any of them could comment, “that was the one.” And then I hid my face behind a fresh croissant. 

“Slut!” Draco mocked with a faux gasp, and this time it was my turn to give him a rude gesture. 

“Says the man who brought two schoolmarms home last night and kept the whole bloody wing awake with their caterwauling,” huffed Neville. 

I laughed, enjoying the rosy tint on Draco’s cheeks that he tried to downplay with a smirk. For as haughty as he was, he had always been incredibly easy to read. Of course, I could hardly claim any differently. I’d been told my every thought broadcasted itself on my face more than once. 

“Did you see them out, by the way?” Asked Daphne, peering past Hermione to the open french doors. 

“Of course he did,” said Pansy. “Right after he was done, I’d wager.” 

“Don’t be bitter, love,” Draco said, winking. 

“Oh I’m most definitely not,” she responded. “I’ll take a two hour dog over a ten second lizard any day of the week.” 

“You bitch—” 

“Gross,” interrupted Harry. “Please don’t talk about my dad like that. It’s disgusting.”

Pansy smirked. “Don’t be sad, Potter, I swear I’ll make a better step mum than Aggie Vance, the uppity cow.” 

“Drop it, Pans,” I said, giving the other girl a look. The fact that she was currently sleeping with Sirius Black was a sore subject in our friend group. Understandably. Harry was uncomfortable with the situation, given he’d known Pansy since they were both children, but she’d carried a torch for his dad as long as any of us could remember. And Harry was a good man. He wanted his dad happy. Still, there was no need for Pansy to poke at him about it. 

Across the patio, Pansy held up her hands in surrender, but she was smiling broadly. 

“What about this man  _ you _ went home with though, Hermione?” Daphne pressed. “I didn’t see him. Was he handsome?” 

“I thought so.” Pansy looked smug as she eyed Hermione and winked. “Bit of a silver fox. Just my type.” 

Daphne’s gasp was audible and I felt the sudden, vicious urge to hex Pansy upside the head. 

“Pansy, I swear to God—”

“Gods, darling,” Pansy corrected me. She was a polytheist, which was quite common among the older Wizarding houses, and she took every opportunity to point it out to me. “Plural. You think just one could deal with all of me?”

“Right you are,” quipped Draco. “Takes a whole fleet to keep you STD free.” 

“How old are we talking here?” Asked Neville, who was looking a little beleaguered but mostly content. 

I shrugged, unwilling to meet his gaze or anyone else’s at this point. I wasn’t a prude, and I’d slept with two of the three men in the room before, but I also wasn’t as brazen about my nocturnal activities as Pansy was. 

“Ancient,” Pansy supplied.

I sighed. 

“I think he could be a Dumbledore contemporary, actually.” 

“Oh, you absolute trout!” 

Pansy and Draco both laughed as Daphne, Harry, and Neville all gave me concerned looks. 

“He was your dad’s age.  _ Maybe _ ,” I stressed. “Definitely no older.” 

“Did you ask?” said Draco. “He might have been wearing a glamour.”

“Stop needling her,” said Daphne. “Look, she’s obviously embarrassed. 

“I’m not,” I protested. “I’d just rather be eating my breakfast than speculating on my one-night stand’s age.” 

“Is that all he was?” asked Harry, who sounded curious now. “Just a shag?” 

I bit my lip. If any of them knew what had happened the night before… if they knew the things he’d said or the things I’d responded with… Or that he’d done nothing to me other than eat my pussy better than any man had in my entire life… I’d never be able to look them in the eye again. 

“Definitely,” I said. “He’s Spanish. I think.” But then the sound of his voice echoed through my mind, and I realized his accent hadn’t been Spanish at all. 

“Nothing wrong with a little International Relations,” encouraged Pansy. 

I took another bite of my croissant and the buttery, flaky pastry seemed to melt on my tongue. I focused on it to keep from responding, because the truth was, even if I wanted to see the man again, I’d have to show up on his doorstep to make it happen. I hadn’t even gotten his name before I’d left, which in retrospect, seemed like a poor life choice. 

“There is if he’s twice her age,” Harry muttered darkly, and Pansy blew him a kiss. 

“I’ll send Sirius your love when I owl him my fantasies tonight,” she said. 

Harry made a disgusted sound and slammed his cup down on the table. “I’m full,” he said, standing and looking down at Daphne as she set her meal aside and stood with him. “Fancy a dip in the pool?”

“No fucking in there,” Draco said mildly. “We’ve all got to swim in that water.” 

“I’ll do as I please, thanks,” said Harry, and then Daphne smacked him in the arm, blushing. 

Soon, the pair were gone and I was left to finish my breakfast with the other three in peace. I found my thoughts drawn back to the night before more than once, heard the way he’d called me ‘baby girl’ and ‘kitten’ as I finished my eggs and tried not to blush. 

I’d just set my plate aside and was finishing my second cup of coffee while going over arithmancy equations in my head to distract myself from more lascivious thoughts, when an owl swooped down over the roof behind us and landed with a hoot and a gentle wave of its wings on the edge of the umbrella above. 

Neville was closest, so he reached up, unhooking the small parcel dangling from the creature’s leg and feeding it a bit of bacon before it took flight again.

“It’s for you,” he said, tossing the package in my direction. I caught it and immediately tore into the paper. It was simple and brown, but folded neatly, as if whoever had done it had folded packages just like it thousands of times before. It was probably a gift from one of my friends at work. That or one of the Weasleys. The mother had been sending me birthday sweets since my second year, when I’d befriended her daughter. 

With the packaging unattached now, I spread the paper flat over the tabletop in front of me, scooting my plate aside to expose the contents of the parcel. 

I immediately wished I hadn’t. 

“Gods, are those knickers?”

I flushed instantly and reached for them, but not before Draco (who had moved to the table once Harry had gone) was able to snatch them from in front of me. 

“Give those back!” I demanded. I could practically hear my heartbeat in my ears. 

“Merlin, these are  _ your _ knickers,” he said, eyes widening as he looked up at me in open mouthed shock. 

Beside him, Pansy hooted with laughter.

Ever the gentleman, Neville plucked the thong from Draco’s hands and held them out toward me. As he did, and the panties unfurled, something hard fell and thunked against the table. All four pairs of eyes in the vicinity followed the sound to find something sparkling on the glass surface. 

“Is that a fucking diamond?” asked Pansy, who sounded incredulous now. 

“There’s a note,” Neville interjected mildy, and before anyone else could reach for it, I picked it up, unfolding it as Neville set the knickers gingerly on the table between us and continued to eye the gem that had fallen from them. 

_ Hermione, _

_ I did say a gift was in order. _

_ Happy Birthday, _

_ R.A.B. _

Ears ringing and face burning, I folded the note and stuffed it down the front of my shirt, into my bra where I knew neither Pansy nor Draco would reach for it. 

“It’s a necklace,” said Pansy after several more seconds. “The chain’s fine, but I can see it there.” 

I eyed the thing dubiously. The diamond was massive and pitch black, set in what looked like goblin forged silver, with so many enchantments radiating off of it I could feel them prickling against my skin. 

“It’s cursed,” I said, barely believing the words as they left my lips. 

“No,” said Draco, and he sounded absolutely gobsmacked as I looked up at him. “Not cursed. That’s the fucking Black Diamond.” 

“We can see that, Draco,” said Pansy, but he looked up at her, meeting her eyes as he shook his head. 

“No Pans, it’s the  _ Black _ Diamond.” 

“What do you mean it’s—” and then, as if someone had flipped a switch in her brain, Pansy’s expression went from confused to livid. She turned to me. “Why you little bitch.” 

“What the hell did I do?” I said, pushing my seat back to put as much distance between myself and the suddenly enraged Syltherin. 

“How long has it been going on?” asked Pansy, and she looked to be reaching for her wand as she stood. 

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ !” Neville’s voice echoed on the patio, the jet of light hitting Pansy in the chest. Draco caught her and glared up at Neville. 

“What was that for, Longbottom?”

“She was about to hex Hermione!”

“With good reason, you twit!” 

“What the  _ hell _ is a black diamond?!” I was shouting now, and I was so bloody confused I wanted to disappear. I hated this feeling, hated not  _ knowing _ something that was obviously important. 

“You should know,” said Draco, settling Pansy onto the ground with a grunt and pulling his wand to unbind her. “You’re the one receiving it.” 

“Clearly she doesn’t,” said Neville. “And neither do I, come to that.” Draco ended the body bind on Pansy, who started shrieking instantly. 

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ ,” Neville repeated casually. “Unless you explain what the fuck is happening, she stays down.” 

Draco made a disgusted sound. 

“It’s the Goddamn Black Diamond, Neville! The stone passed from head of house to head of house for centuries and worn by the Lady of that same fucking house!” He rounded on me. “The priceless heirloom supposedly lost when Walburga Black died. The one the Heads of the House of Black have used to propose to their wives since time bloody fucking imemorial!” 

I couldn’t breathe. He was wrong. He had to be. But as the blood thundered in my ears and I slunk down in my seat, I heard a phrase repeating itself in my head. 

_ I’m the head of my house and used to getting my way. _

He’d said that. The man from the night before, the one I’d called Daddy and begged to tongue me until I was completely mindless. 

Without conscious thought, I reached back into my shirt, withdrawing the note and unfolding it to stare at dumbly.

_ R.A.B. _

His initials.

“Neville?”

“Unbind her, Longbottom, or I swear I’ll hex you!” 

I cleared my throat.

“Nev?”

“She’s staying there until we get this sorted, Prat.” 

“If Hermione’s been fucking around with her boyfriend—”

“Neville!” 

Both men paused to look up at me, Draco with a glare and Neville with a concerned expression. 

“Doesn’t Sirius have a brother?”

Because it suddenly made sense. That familiar grin. Those grey eyes. The silky black hair I’d spent an hour clinging to for dear life. 

“What, Regulus?” asked Draco. “He buggered off after the war. What’s he got to do with anything?” 

I held out the note and Draco stared for another few seconds before taking it from me to read. When he was done, eyes wide, he handed it off to Neville. 

“Well shit,” he said, once he had read it. 

“I guess Pans wasn’t lying when she said tall dark and whatever was her type,” said Draco, who was rubbing his forehead now as if the whole misunderstanding had given him a migraine. 

As for me, I was left reeling. I eyed the jewel at the center of the table, only inches from the knickers it had come wrapped in. It was lovely, and part of me— the part my mother had taught the difference between paste and real diamonds— wanted to reach out and touch it. But the magic I could still feel pulsing around it was strong, and without running a whole battery of diagnostic tests, there was no way to tell exactly what they entailed. What the  _ hell _ had the man been thinking, sending me an heirloom of such value? Of such  _ power _ . 

Quickly, before I could dwell any longer, I took the knickers, using them to lift the gem and wrapping them securely around it before slipping the thing back into my pocket. 

I’d have to send it back. There was no other option. Unless… I could always give it to Harry. He could tuck it safely into the Black vaults. Sirius could use it as it was intended if he ever settled down. And Regulus… I’d never have to see him again, never have to admit to anyone the things I’d let him do to me. The night would remain what it had always been meant to be… a lovely, thrilling memory. 

*****

I finished out my time in Spain quietly. No more clubs or parties, though my friends did try to convince me, and absolutely no conversations about the parcel I’d received the morning of my birthday. I’d sworn the three who had been there when it had arrived to secrecy before I’d allowed them to leave the patio that day, and though I had stopped short of demanding Unbreakable Vows from the lot of them, they knew they would all be soundly cursed if they crossed me. The last thing I needed was Harry finding out just  _ who _ my one night stand had been and relating that back to his father before I had a chance to. The pair were incredibly close, and little happened to one that the other wasn’t aware of. I had little doubt word of his long lost uncle fucking one of his best friends would make their nightly chat. 

We returned to England via International Portkey, and I breathed a sigh of relief as my feet settled on the floor of Grimmauld Place. I’d decided to tag along with Harry before returning to my flat in Mayfair, and hopefully find a moment to get his dad alone for a chat about an heirloom I’d managed to ‘find.’ An heirloom which was currently taking up residence in my pocket and in my mind. The magic in it was strong, and it beckoned for me to touch the thing with every move I made.

The house was light, and airy, decorated in shades of gold and burgundy with gleaming windows along the front thrown open to let in the sun. I’d always found the place cozy, with the exception of the mouthless, dour looking woman in the portrait near the front door, who always looked both perturbed and disapproving. 

“Hello, Walburga,” I said, trying to sound kind as the portrait’s brows knit together and she shook her head vehemently. 

“Say hello, Mum,” came an amused voice from the stairs beyond. Hermione looked up to see Mr. Black descending the steps, wearing one of his all black Muggle ensembles with bare feet and a head of long, wet hair. “Hermione?” He looked briefly surprised but the expression faded quickly. “Pleasure seeing you again.” 

“Mr Black,” I said, nodding in his direction. The sight of him was oddly disturbing, and I could barely bring myself to meet his eyes. He looked so  _ much _ like the man I’d met in Madrid…  _ Regulus, _ I reminded myself. The hair was the same color and texture, the eyes the same shape. They both had the same high cheekbones and eyes fringed with heavy black lashes. At the memory, I felt the strangest urge to reach into my pocket and take hold of the diamond again.

“You know better than to call me that,” he laughed as he hit the bottom step. He was looking at me oddly, but all he said was, “Where’s my son gotten off to?” 

As he asked the question, a pop sounded in the foyer and Harry appeared behind me, shaking out his robes and looking up with a grin.

“Just dropped off Daphne,” he said, and I could see a hint of her lipgloss on his jawline. 

“How’s her Dad?” asked Mr Black, waggling his brows at Harry, who blushed and shrugged. 

“Dunno. He was out when I left her.” 

“Lucky you,” I teased. 

“I’d have expected you’d be gone longer in that case,” said his dad. 

Harry blushed, making eye contact with the portrait in the hall and then looking away as she glowered back at him. “I just saw her home. No funny business.” 

“If it’s funny, you’re doing it wrong, lad.” 

This time it was my turn to blush. 

“I think the point is, he  _ wasn’t _ doing it.” 

Harry threw me a grateful look and I smiled back at him. Mr Black let the subject drop, ushering us both down to the kitchen where he asked his House Elf, Betty, to fix us all some tea. Before long, Harry excused himself, and I stood as if to follow him out. I wasn’t sure bringing up the necklace now would be a good idea. I hadn’t had enough time to craft a plausible story for how I’d come into possession of it that didn’t include me having the hottest night of my life with his younger sibling. Besides, the weight of the thing against me was driving me mad, and if I didn’t put some distance between it and myself I worried I’d do something rash.

“Heading out so soon?” I paused in the doorway, my hand on the frame. Mr. Black sounded curious, and there was a hint of challenge in his voice. “Sure there isn’t something you wanted to talk to me about?”

I whirled back to face him, feeling my cheeks heat instantly. 

“What did Pansy say to you?” I  _ knew _ I should have gotten a vow from her. The loud mouthed little—

“Pansy? Why? What does she know?” 

The question took me by surprise. 

“You mean she didn’t owl you?”

“She owled me,” he said, brow furrowed, “But not about whatever you’re thinking of.” 

“Then what are you—” I bit my tongue. If he wasn’t asking about the diamond, I didn’t need to risk giving him any information. I had learned  _ some _ things from the Slytherins in my life. 

“You tripped some wards,” said Mr Black, leaning back in his seat at the table now and propping one, boot clad ankle over the opposite knee. “When you apparated in. They’re old. Familial. I thought maybe they’d malfunctioned when I saw you, but, you’ve been stiff as hell since we sat down to tea.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.” I did. Every glance in his direction had been enough to remind me of the weight of the jewel in my jacket pocket, and the weight of the eyes of the man who had sent it to me. I’d been on pins and needles the whole time. 

“Bullshit,” he said. “You know something. Spill.” 

“I—” 

“And before you think of lying to me in my own home, know that my parents had wards for that shit too.” 

I let out a long exhale. 

“Fuck.” 

Mr Black chuckled and his boots hit the floor before he stood. 

“Better out than in, sweetheart,” he said, and then his hands settled on his hips as he waited, his long hair still damp from the shower I assumed he’d taken before we’d arrived. 

I sighed. 

He knew. Well, he didn’t  _ know _ , but he did suspect  _ something _ had happened. And if I’d tripped wards when I’d entered… It had to have been the bloody necklace. I cursed under my breath. 

“Fine,” I said, and then reached into my pocket, grabbing the neatly wrapped handkerchief I’d pilfered from Draco in Spain and tossing it onto the table between the two of us. “I found this.” My heart beat wildly in my chest. The statement was technically true. I’d found the necklace in a package that had been sent to me.

Mr Black raised a brow. 

“What is it?”

I gestured toward the handkerchief and he leaned down toward it, frowning slightly as he seemed to sense the magic radiating off of it. 

“You tell me,” I said. “I’ve been told you’ll recognize it.” 

Pulling his wand, Mr Black aimed it at the fabric, vanishing the handkerchief before I could protest and then leaning down to get a closer look at what was left. I could tell the moment he recognized it, because he inhaled sharply. 

“Bloody hell.”

Something I hadn’t known I’d been harboring sank into my gut like a stone. I thought it was any hope I’d had that this was all just some silly misunderstanding.

“That’s the Black Diamond.” 

“So I’ve been told,” I said, and because my legs felt wobbly, I took the opportunity to sit down in one of the kitchen chairs. 

“You  _ found _ this?” He looked up at me with wide, suspicious eyes, and I shrugged. 

“In a manner of speaking.” 

“Hermione—”

“Alright. It was given to me.” 

His eyes widened even further than I’d thought possible, and he looked almost frantic. 

“By who?” 

I focused on my hands, folded neatly on my lap. 

“A man I met in Madrid.” 

“Are you being intentionally evasive?” 

I bit my lip. 

“Hermione, did Regulus give this to you?” 

I blinked, my heartbeat thundering in my ears. 

“I think so,” I confessed. And then I reached into my other pocket, pulling out the note that had accompanied the jewel and setting it flat on the table before sliding over to Mr Black. He read it without pausing, and then swore. 

“Goddammit. That little shit.” 

I looked up, surprised. 

“Sorry?”

“Eighteen fucking years he’s been gone. Bloody fucking, pig-headed arse.” 

“Umm…” What the hell was I supposed to say to that?

“Last time he sent me a postcard was twelve cock-sucking years ago. From  _ Greece _ !” 

“I know you two have been estranged,” I interjected, feeling awkward now, not because of the Jewel shining on the table, but because I felt suddenly in the middle of family drama I had no business being involved in. 

“Estranged? Sweetheart that was two decades ago when he was a fucking Death Eater. These days he’s just a prick.”

My mouth dropped open of its own volition, and I had to close in consciously. A Death Eater. I don’t know why it surprised me. I’d learned the basics of Wizarding history the summer before I’d gone to Hogwarts. I knew there had been a blood war. The parents of some of my closest friends had been on the wrong side of it. They’d called themselves Death Eaters, then. The supremacists who had been convinced that magic should be jealously guarded from Muggleborns such as myself. Of course, most of them recognized the concept was absurd these days. The leader, a man called Tom Riddle, had been shown to be a half-blood himself before Lily and James Potter had killed him. Unfortunately, the couple hadn’t lived long after. They’d been felled by the last of the truly insane followers Riddle had amassed, which was how Harry had come to be the living legacy of the most famous couple in Wizarding Britain, as well as a son of the House of Black. 

But it was all history now. Death Eaters in 1999 were either dead themselves, rotting in Azkaban, or contributing members of society. I wondered how the man I’d met in Madrid—the one I realized now had never so much as rolled up his sleeves while I’d been coming senselessly against his tongue—had come to be one of the latter. 

Across from me, I realized Harry’s father was still swearing a blue streak. He seemed to be feeding off of his own energy, building his outrage into an uproar as he cursed his brother soundly, all the while throwing disgusted looks at the necklace on the table. 

It wasn’t until he said something so foul I felt my cheeks burn that I managed to speak again.

“Look, clearly this is bringing up some… issues. I should go and leave this with you.” 

Mr Black barked out a laugh.

“Oh-ho, think it’s that easy, do you?” 

I blinked across the tea settings at him. 

“I don’t want it,” I clarified. “The diamond. I know it must be priceless to you. I thought you could sock it away for when you— I mean,  _ if _ you settle on a Mrs Black sometime in the future.” 

He laughed. “Unlikely.” And then his gaze narrowed. “Besides, that rock’s only ever been worn by the Lady of the House. I imagine it’s enchanted to prevent any deviance from that tradition.” 

“Yes, exactly,” I said, letting out my own sigh of relief. “And when you find her,” I thought of Pansy, ready to hex me over the bloody thing, “you should have it to give.” 

With that decided, I stood again, feeling a lightness in my chest even as the tips of my fingers tingled in response to whatever strange magic still emanated from the necklace in waves. I’d done what I meant to do. I’d returned the jewel to its rightful place, and put the night I’d spent with the man in Madrid— Regulus, I reminded myself again— behind me. And then, as there was no further reason to linger, I nodded in Mr Black’s direction. 

“I think I ought to go now,” I said. “I’m sorry about… whatever all this has been.” 

He watched me with his jaw wide open, and a look of utter disbelief in his eyes that I was determined to ignore. Nodding again, keeping my spine stiff and my lips pressed tightly together, I turned to flee. I hadn’t made it to the doorway before I heard him laughing. 

“Stop,” he said, pausing to catch his breath as I slowed. There was a trickling sense of dread pooling low at the base of my spine as I heard the chair he’d been sitting in scrape back across the floor. He moved on bare feet to stand directly behind me. 

“I really should go,” I whispered. 

“Look, kid,” he said, and some of the laughter was gone from his voice now as he spoke. “I wish I could tie this all up neatly in a bow for you— you’ve always been a great friend to Harry, and I know you’re a smart girl.” 

Why did it sound as if there was a ‘but’ coming?  _ Oh lord, please don’t let there be a but _ . 

“But I’ve got to tell you, I’m not the Head of the House of Black.”

_ I’m the head of my house and used to getting my way. _

“That dubious honor belongs to my baby brother. He’s the one who took the rock off of our mum after she kicked it. He’s the one who’ll carry on the line.” 

“But you’re the eldest.” I knew it didn’t mean much, but even Wizarding families followed the same rules the English nobility had for centuries. 

He moved around me, and the look he wore was pitying. “I was disowned before the end of the war. Our parents made Reg the heir. He reinstated me after everything played out, but I refused the Headship. I never wanted it. He was better suited.” 

It didn’t mean anything. So what if Regulus really was the Head of the House of Black? So what if he’d sent me some meaningful necklace that should have belonged to his future wife? We’d only spent hours together. We hadn’t even fucked properly. And yes, he’d eaten my pussy as if it were the best thing he’d ever tasted— repeatedly— but orgasms didn’t equal commitment. Not in my world. Not in  _ any _ sane person's world. 

“I don’t want it,” I said, shoving my hands into my pockets even as they itched to reach behind me for the blasted necklace. I couldn’t explain why I felt so drawn to it. All I could think was that the enchantments woven into it held some sort of compulsion. I wondered what that meant and then dismissed the question. It didn’t matter. 

Mr Black snorted. “Doesn’t seem to matter much,” he said, and he looked over my shoulder, eyeing the thing on the table. “The wards won’t react to the thing unless it’s already been keyed to a recipient. Looks like the little arsehole wanted you to have it.” 

At his words, I felt my heart beginning to race again. 

“What do you mean, ‘keyed?’”

“I mean the bastard’s offered for you.”

“Offered?” I echoed. 

He looked as if he were trying to stay patient. “Proposed,” he explained. “You can’t be that surprised. If you’ve been seeing each other—”

“What?! No!”

Mr Black’s brows shot up nearly to his hairline.

“What do you mean, ‘no?’”

“It was just one night!” I explained, feeling as if I might actually die from the embarrassment. “We met the night before my birthday. He sent the thing the next morning.” 

His brows furrowed at that, and he glanced back to the necklace and then down at me, as if he were trying to make sense of it all. 

“Are you sure?” 

“Of course I’m sure,” I hissed.

And then he whistled. “Damn, kid. Must have been one magical fucking night.” 

I could have hit him, but before I had the chance to work through my mortification to make my limbs work, he was moving past me again. I turned where I stood, watching him as he pulled what looked like a tissue from his pocket and picked the necklace up with it by the diamond. 

“Look,” he said, approaching me again with his hand outstretched. I stood frozen to the spot as he moved. “I don’t know what happened between you and the disappearing fuck-wit I call a brother, but at least one thing’s clear in all this.”

“What’s that?” I asked, my voice faint as he stopped right in front of me and reached down, grabbing my hand and opening it before dropping the jewel right into the center of my palm. I felt the moment it made contact, not by the weight of it, or the coolness of the stone itself, but by the hot pulse of magic that flowed from it, across the flesh of my hand, and over every inch of skin on my body in seconds flat before settling with a warm glow in my chest and then disappearing completely. 

“This damned thing isn’t my responsibility,” said Mr Black with a grin. “Tell Reg to pull his head out of his arse when you see him next, will you? I expect a fucking floo call before Christmas.”

  
  



	3. Leave it to a Gryffindor to look a gift horse in the mouth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in a great mood today, and writing is going super well (I'm three chapters ahead on this story!) so Ready or Knot gets an update too! <3

_ Hermione, _

_ I’m happy to know you’ve accepted my gift.  _

_ When can I see you again? _

_ R.A.B. _

I crumpled the note and then chucked it in the bin. 

It landed beside the diamond I’d tossed in earlier that day.

I hoped they kept one another good company, because I certainly wouldn’t be doing the honours. 

“Was that from him?” 

Pansy sat on the sofa next to me, a stack of books beside her as she peered into the wastepaper basket. I gave a stiff nod. 

“Can I see?” 

“By all means.” 

She fished out the parchment, her hand hovering over the diamond before I gave her a hard stare and she sighed. 

“You can’t honestly mean to leave it there.” 

“It’s a trojan horse,” I said, trying to sound flippant. The truth was, I’d been aching to recover the thing since I’d tossed it in an hour ago in a fit of rage, but my stubborn pride wouldn’t allow me to do so with an audience. 

“Whatever  _ that _ means,” Pansy muttered, smoothing the note over her lap and reading it quickly. “Oh, he’s  _ happy _ ,” she said, a wicked grin on her face. “Your fiance seems pleased.” 

“Stop it,” I demanded. 

She laughed. “Leave it to a Gryffindor to look a gift horse in the mouth.”

“Pansy—” 

“A Black— excuse me, not just any Black, the head of the whole fucking house— is offering himself to you on a platter, and you’re sitting there worrying the priceless heirloom he’s gifted you is a trap. It’s the definition of stupidity.” 

“I don’t  _ want _ his stupid trinket,” I said, sounding harsher than I’d meant to. “I don’t want  _ him _ .”

“Gods, was he that lousy a shag?”

“Oh fuck off.” I could feel my ears burning and Pansy laughed beside me. 

“You know, sex isn’t everything, Granger,” she teased. “Sometimes a mental connection is just as fulfilling as a physical one.” 

I gave her a disbelieving look and she smirked. 

“At least, that’s what I’ve been told.” 

“Are you going to sit there teasing all day, or are you going to help like you promised?” I asked pointedly. 

Pansy shrugged elegantly and reached for the half full wine-glass she’d left on the side table. “That depends. You going to dish on your night with him?” 

I kicked myself mentally for having invited her in the first place. I should have started with Daphne who, though less knowledgeable than Pansy about the intricacies of relational magic, would have been a sight less annoying to have around. 

“It was nothing,” I lied. “I don’t remember all of it.” 

Pansy’s gaze narrowed at that. 

“He take advantage of you?” she asked, suddenly looking as if she might set down her glass and go after Regulus herself.

“No,” I said, regretting my lie instantly. I may not want the man as my fiance, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead. “Look, it was fine.” 

Pansy took a long sip of her drink. 

“And fine got you that bauble?” she asked, nodding toward the bin. 

“I guess,” I said, shrugging as I avoided her gaze. 

“Bullshit. I’m fucking a Black too, Hermione, and all ‘bloody fantastic’ has gotten  _ me _ is a standing date night and a few stolen concert shirts.”

“Jesus, can you not just let it go?” My mouth had gone dry and I shifted uncomfortably in my seat as Pansy gave me a pitying look. 

“It’s like you don’t know me at all,” she said, and then took another drink of her wine. 

Taking a single, shaky breath, I realized the truth of her statement. Pansy Parkinson had always been and would always be like a Hippogriff with a bone. Putting her off was ultimately useless and might earn you a set of claws to the face. 

“Fine,” I said at last, and she squealed eagerly at the word. 

“I want to know everything,” she demanded. “Positions, dialogue, penetrations.  _ Everything _ .” 

This time it was my turn to laugh. 

“No,” I told her. “Look… it was good.” 

“Yes, and?”

I shrugged. “We didn’t actually… have sex. Not intercourse, at least.” 

Pansy nearly dropped her wine. 

“I’m sorry?” 

I avoided her gaze. “See, this is exactly why I didn’t want to go into detail.” 

“Just spit it out already, Granger. What  _ happened _ ?”

Merlin, she was going to make me say it. This had been exactly the situation I’d been trying to avoid by trying to return the bloody diamond in the first place.

“He… well, he has a very talented mouth,” I said at last, putting it as delicately as I could manage. 

Pansy’s jaw dropped and then she hooted aloud. 

“What, all night?” 

I shook my head. “Only a few hours,” I said, and then I braved a glance up to see her gobsmacked expression. 

“Only a few— Circe’s cunt, do you know how much time Sirius has spent downstairs  _ collectively _ since we started seeing one another.” 

“I don’t want to,” I said automatically. The less I knew about her relationship with Harry’s father, the less I’d have to risk accidentally telling him. 

“Not a few fucking hours,” she said bluntly, and then drained her glass before setting it aside and drawing both of her legs up beneath herself on the sofa. “Is your Black part merman?” she asked, and there was an amused glint in her eyes now. “Does he not need to breathe?”

I shrugged, remembering how he’d breathed against me, with his nose nestled in my cleft, as if he couldn’t get enough of my scent. 

“Look,” I said, “It was amazing, alright? But that doesn’t mean I want to  _ marry _ the man. I’m barely twenty, and he’s clearly off his rocker. I mean, who proposes to a girl he’s only just met, least of all with a priceless artefact and no bloody explanation?”

Pansy seemed to mull over the question, rising to refill her glass and then sitting back down beside the stack of books she’d brought with her. 

“The Blacks have always been a little… impulsive,” she admitted after a while. 

I snorted. 

“This is beyond impulsive. It’s the definition of insanity.” 

“Hmm.” Another sip from her glass. 

“You can’t honestly expect for me to just let this continue,” I said. 

Pansy shook her head. “You? Never. Alright. What is it you want to know?” 

I sighed, grateful as she patted my arm and set her glass aside, reaching for a book as she did so. We spent hours looking through them after that, learning all we could about the history of betrothal gems, and the types of enchantments which had been placed on them throughout the ages. The more I learned, the more irate I grew. Everything from fidelity spells to tracking charms were, apparently, exceedingly common in hereditary jewels such as these, and the thought that a man I barely knew might try to trap me with one… that he might have  _ succeeded _ if the sweeping sensations I’d felt when the necklace had touched my skin were anything to go by… it made my blood boil. 

By the time we were done and ready to run a battery of diagnostic charms on both the necklace I’d left langouring in the bin and my person, I was good and properly enraged.

How dare he. How dare the man presume so much, take such liberties. 

But then, we performed the charms, and only three enchantments came back positive. The first was a modified tracking charm. It didn’t seem to collect information on my actual whereabouts, it only reported whether or not the necklace was in contact with my person. It seemed innocuous enough. The second was the spell which had linked me to the gem, and thereby to the Black family magic. It was what had tripped the wards at Grimmauld Place, letting Sirius know a close family member was near. And the third… Well, the third was complicated. And old. I didn’t understand it completely, truth be told, and neither did Pansy. 

“A love charm?” she guessed, studying the pattern of runes glittering in the air above the coffee table where I had set the necklace for inspection. 

I shook my head. 

“No, you see that one, just there? It means free will.” 

“Maybe something to do with fidelity?” 

“No.” I furrowed my brow. “It’s almost… It’s almost as if the enchantment isn’t meant for me. But it is.” 

“That makes no sense at all.” Pansy lowered her wand, letting the runes blink out of existence as she stowed it away. 

“No,” I mused. It didn’t. But having seen the enchantments for myself now, I felt slightly less murderous. There was nothing there that looked as if it were meant to control the wearer, or even influence them. There wasn’t even a proper tracking charm. I wouldn’t be wearing the bloody thing, but I at least felt better about having touched it. If the worst thing to come of it was that the wards at Harry’s house recognized me as family, I thought I could live with that. 

“What do you want to do with it, then?” Pansy levitated the necklace with her wand, slipping into the flannel, drawstring bag I’d found for it and shutting it before setting it back down onto the coffee table. “Don’t suppose you want to send it home with someone who will appreciate it properly?” 

I considered it, I really did, but there was still something about the thing that I found compelling, and the idea of being parted from it… 

“I’m going to give it back to him,” I said at last. 

Pansy nodded once. “Owl it in a fresh set of knickers,” she suggested. I shot her a dirty look in response and she laughed. 

“Look, you keep these books for a while and I’ll grab them next time. Daddy won’t miss them from the library any time soon.” She leaned in toward me, giving me a peck on the cheek and then smacking my arse with one hand. “But if you see tall, dark, and delectable again, you had better tell me immediately.”

“I’m not going to see him,” I argued, but the words sounded almost painful to my ears. 

“Whatever. Just do as I say, Granger.” And then Pansy was draining her third glass of the afternoon, and giving me a wink. “And speaking of tall, dark, and delicious… I’ve got a date with your future Brother In Law. Catch you later?” 

“Be safe,” I said, and I relished the automatic wince she gave at my words of caution. 

“Always. Can you even imagine? I’d be a terrible mum.” With that, Pansy swept from the room with a shiver and an affectionate pat to her flat belly. 

I watched her go, and then I stared at the bag on the table for several minutes before sighing and sending it magically to settle in my nightstand. 

I spent the rest of the day catching up on work I’d missed during my vacation, and trying very hard not to think about the note Pansy had left smoothed out on the sofa. I didn’t need to read it again, didn’t need to give it a second thought, and I  _ certainly _ didn’t need to pick it up just to admire the elegant script of his initials. 

_ R.A.B. _

I wondered what the ‘A’ stood for, and then I reminded myself I didn’t care. 

That evening, after I’d locked up the flat and put myself to bed, there was an insistent tapping at my window. I let the owl in with a wave of my wand, and it swept into the room, familiar with its wide, dark wings. It dropped a slip of paper from its beak onto my lap and then swept back out through the open window. 

With trembling hands, I picked up the parchment, turning it over so that the words faced up. I could just make them out as the light of the nearly full moon filtered in from outside. 

_ Baby Girl, _

_ I’m not a patient man. _

_ “Daddy.” _

*****

I tried to put Reglus and the cursed necklace out of my mind going forward. I went to work the following Monday with the jewel still tucked into my nightstand, untouched during the long weekend I’d spent studiously avoiding it, and checked in with my supervisor before heading to the tiny office I shared with two fellow co-workers. Fortunately, both were currently in the field on assignment, so I had the space to myself for the moment. 

I settled into my routine easily. I’d been doing the same work for the last year, and it was entry level stuff, but it was still fascinating. Curse-breaking was not a boring occupation, and even the theoretical assignments kept me on my toes. Which was the point, I knew. The goblins wanted the witches and wizards in their employ sharp before they sent them out to represent the bank, and the best way to ensure that was to have them work within the place to begin with. It was a probationary period, and one I hoped to be at the end of soon. As much as I enjoyed the puzzles and essay’s I’d been working on since I was hired, I itched to try my hand at a real curse.

“Granger, you in there?” 

A sharp rap at the office door accompanied the nasally voice of a Goblin. 

“I’m here, Grog-Kell,” I called. “Come in.” 

The door opened and the goblin— my supervisor— walked stiffly into the room. I felt suddenly nervous. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen Grog-Kell come down here before. He prefered to work in his own office above ground, and to have his subordinates come to him. 

“Have a nice time in Spain?” he asked, stopping by the edge of my desk.

I furrowed my brow. 

“Nice enough. Did you… Is there something I can help you with?” 

The elder goblin crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing as he peered up at me. 

“There’s been a request,” he said without any further preamble. “A client’s come in and asked for you to be assigned to their account.” 

My brows shot up so fast and so far I was sure I looked like I’d seen a basilisk. 

“That’s unusual,” I said. 

“Gather your things,” was all Grog-Kell said, and then he let his gaze sweep around the room before settling back on me. “They’re waiting at the vault. Seven hundred and one.” 

I watched as he excused himself and then stood so quickly my chair skated backward along the flagstone floor. Who owned vault seven hundred and one? I knew it was one of the deeper, high security vaults, but I hadn’t been allowed to see the names attached to those accounts. My own account was on the 400 level. Secure enough, but newer than the deeper ones, which I suspected all belonged to the older Wizarding families. 

Perhaps it was Pansy. Had her father finally signed over the account her grandmother had left her? Deciding that that was probably it, I gathered my instruments, stuffing them into an over the shoulder bag and then tucking my wand into the bun I wore, for easy access. 

The lower levels were drafty, and I pulled my work robes more tightly around myself as the cart I’d taken descended at a breakneck pace. The goblin driving it didn’t seem concerned, but I wasn’t a fan of heights, and hurtling above empty space at such speed had my heart racing. 

“What number?” asked the driver. I’d met him before but his name escaped me. 

“Seven hundred and one,” I answered.

The cart gave another little lurch as the track changed, and then it was sloping downward again. By the time we reached our destination, there was a definite chill in the air, and I drew my wand as I disembarked— happily— from the death trap that had brought me there. 

“Thank you,” I said politely to the goblin, but he didn’t even acknowledge my words before he was taking off, leaving me standing on the wide ledge in front of the vaults alone. I sighed and cast a warming charm on myself before tucking my wand neatly back up, and then turned to face the line of doors that descended down a long corridor. The one I was looking for was at the end, as it happened, and I looked for Pansy as I went. Finding no sign of her, I paused outside the open door of seven hundred and one and listened. 

There were people inside, speaking in low tones. I thought I heard Grog-Kell’s voice, and so I stepped into the chamber, letting my eyes adjust to the light for a moment before I scanned it’s contents. 

There was gold glittering on every available surface, and trunks lined from floor to ceiling along two walls. Jewels and silver and gleaming things were piled together like a dragon’s hoard, and I found myself reluctantly impressed. 

“Here she is,” said Grog-Kell, and he sounded relieved as he me. “Miss Granger, if I might introduce you to Lord Black? He’s recently returned from the continent and—” The goblin said more, but I didn’t hear any of it. 

He was standing beside a stack of trunks, one shoulder leaned against the polished wood.The robes he wore weren’t quite formal, but I’d seen Draco’s father wear something similar before, and I realized they were some sort of status symbol. And they looked good on him. The smoky grey fabric highlighted the silver strands in his otherwise dark hair, and they fell open at the front, showing off his finely cut trousers, crisp white shirt, and matching vest. 

And as Grog-Kell spoke, the man watched me, his gaze hungry… predatory. 

“Regulus.” I wasn’t aware I’d said his name aloud until my supervisor made a surprised little sound. 

“Ah, it seems the two of you know one another already.”

I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry as my skin grew hot beneath the thin fabric of my robes. I wished suddenly that I’d never set the stupid warming charm. 

“We met recently,” Regulus supplied, and I kept my gaze carefully averted from where he stood. If I didn’t look at him, I wouldn’t have to think about the last time I’d seen him, traces of my arousal still clinging to his face as he’d kissed me once and closed the lift doors between us. 

Grog-Kell looked to me for confirmation, and when I nodded stiffly he shrugged. “Very well. I’ll leave you to it then, Granger. Reports weekly.” 

He left with a small nod in Regulus’s direction after that, and a meaningful look in mine, as if he were giving me a great deal of responsibility and expected me to do everything in my power to keep from fucking it up. My stomach twisted itself into knots at the thought. This was  _ not _ how I had imagined the active phase of my career as a curse breaker to begin. I’d thought there would be some warning, some time to transition… But no, all I got was a dark look and a reintroduction to the one man I’d been trying to avoid thinking of for over a week now. 

“What are you doing here?” I asked, deciding to start with the most pressing question first. 

Regulus stood up straight, crossing his arms and narrowing that smoky gaze at me as he spoke. “I didn’t hear back from you,” he said. 

I glanced behind me, making sure Grog-Kell had gone, and then shutting the vault door firmly behind him before rounding back on Regulus. 

“I know,” I said through gritted teeth. “I had nothing to say.” 

His nostrils flared and a muscle along his jaw twitched. 

“I told you, I’m not a patient man, Hermione.” 

I swallowed, my heart flipping back and forth in my chest as I drew my wand and cancelled the warming charm that was making my cheeks flush now. 

“I don’t care,” I said. I knew I sounded petulant, but I was flustered, and I would excuse myself for it. 

At my flippant remark, I watched Regulus’s eyes shift quickly from smoky grey to a bright silver, his mouth turning up at one corner. “Is that so?” 

I ignored his question. “You know, you’re incredibly high handed.” 

“Am I?” 

“Absolutely.” I thought of the necklace in my bedside table, and the notes he’d sent me the day I touched it. “This is where I work. You can’t just come waltzing in and demanding my time because you’re some sort of… whatever it is you are.” 

“A lord?” 

“Yes, that.”

He chuckled, and then he started moving. He was headed straight toward me, and as he strode with casual grace, closing the distance between us, I tripped backward until my back hit the vault door. He didn’t stop until he was a foot from me, so close I had to crane my neck to look up and meet his gaze. 

“It seems I can.” 

Bastard. 

“I don’t have your necklace here,” I said, feeling suddenly lightheaded. “If you want it back, you’ll have to wait for me to get it from my flat.” 

He growled at that, so loud I could practically feel it in the air around me. 

“I don’t want the fucking necklace.” 

I gulped. “Neither do I.” 

His nostrils flared as he watched me, and when his hands came down on either side of me as he leaned in, putting us nose to nose as his silver gaze gobbled mine up. 

“What  _ do _ you want?” he asked, his voice low and gravely. 

What did I want? Right now, with him so close I could smell the fresh, clean scent of his skin and the barest hint of good tobacco on his breath, I wanted him to touch me. I remembered the feel of his hands on my hips, fingers digging in for purchase, keeping me still even as I’d strained against his tongue. It had been so beyond good I couldn’t think of a word to describe it now. 

Before I could think of anything beyond that, I felt his hand cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lips posessively as he leaned further into me, inhaling me as his eyes fluttered shut and those dark lashes rested against sharp, aristocratic cheekbones. I stood there, frozen by the sensation, needing what I could see hidden behind the proper exterior he’d worn into the bank, and cursing myself for my strange weakness where he was concerned.

“You smell good,” he said, and then his hand trailed down to my throat, resting gently against it as his other came around my front and dipped down to the front of my robes. He pressed firmly against my cunt with an open palm when he got there, making sure I could feel him through the three layers of fabric, solid and very, very real. “Smelled even better here though. Couldn’t keep myself from tasting you. Do you remember?” 

I bit my lip hard to keep from saying anything. Of  _ course _ I remembered. I hadn’t stopped thinking about it since, hadn’t spent a single night without dreaming of it or picturing it as I’d drifted off to sleep.    
  


“You do, don’t you?” His fingers twitched between my thighs, hooking against me briefly and making me gasp. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped. “Tell me you don’t want it, Princess.” 

But I did want it, and no matter how irritated I was at the man, or how many doubts I had about about his sanity given the fact that he’d apparently proposed to me out of the blue, I couldn’t keep myself from arching against him and wrapping a hand around his neck to feel the silken strands of his black hair between my fingers. 

The moment my hand fisted at the back of his head, he growled again and leaned in, his mouth descending over mine. I felt the vibration of his lips against me before his tongue swept into my mouth, commanding and tantalizing all at once. 

He kissed like he’d been born to do it, like kissing me was the only thing he’d ever wanted out of life. It was intoxicating and so incredibly sexy that I felt myself responding despite my own better judgment. I let him delve into me and I explored in return, sweeping my tongue over his and along his straight, smooth teeth before he sucked it into my mouth, suckling as he had on my breasts the last time we’d met. 

I moaned at the sensation, and the hand still settled between my thighs, started moving. 

“Tell me you like it,” he demanded, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips to my ear, where he began whispering. “Tell me how good it makes you feel to have my fingers on you. Do you remember what they felt like before?” He pressed harder against me, dug two of his fingers into the fabric until they were between my cleft, and put pressure directly against my clit. “Remember what they felt like inside of you?” 

My head was spinning.

“Yes,” I breathed. I couldn’t lie, not here with his hands and his eyes all over me. 

“Of course you do,” he said. “You took them so well, how could you forget?”

His mouth was on my neck now, replacing the hand he’d moved to my cheek, licking and sucking and nipping as he went, leaving a trail of tingling, heated flame where he touched. 

And then, between my parted thighs, he ground down the heel of his hand, putting so much delicious pressure on my clit that I cried out. 

“Will you take this for me too, Princess? Will you let me make you come right here against the door of my vault? Right in the bank where you work?”

I couldn’t even pretend that I wanted to say no. I was so close already that the burning along my skin was hotter than the warming charm I’d worn into the vault in the first place. 

He continued to press against me, the firm pressure steady as he worked, and his other hand moving to my neck again, circling it gently as he groaned into my ear. 

“Fuck if I don’t want to taste you again,” he said. “And you’d let me, wouldn’t you? Let me get on my knees and lift this uniform right up. Let me bury my face in your cunt for hours.” 

“Oh!” I cried, feeling the first, fluttering pulses of impending climax as he whispered to me. 

“That’s right, baby girl, come. Let me feel you soak through these robes for me. I want your scent on my hand for hours, want to be able to lick my fingers later and taste you.”

I screamed my climax into his free hand as he moved it up to my lips, and he continued to whisper filthy things in my ear all the while, his hand never stopping the rhythm he’d set for me, never giving me time to come down from the peak before he was urging me back up for another climax. 

“There, there it is. Scream for me, Hermione. Let me hear how good it is.”

“Fuck!” The swear was muffled behind his hand and I felt my whole body tense again as he wrenched the orgasm from my body. It rippled from my pussy out to my limbs, leaving me loose and pliant in his arms as Regulus gave a satisfied sounding growl and smoothed his hand over my sex gently before bringing it up to his face to smell. He met my eyes then, and the silver of them glinted in the firelight from the sconces on the wall. 

“This is what you want,” he said, lowering his hand, and it wasn’t a question or an accusation, just a very simple statement of fact. 

He straightened my robes before he backed away, giving me a grin I might have called boyish if he were so entirely a man. 

“Do you have anything to say to me, Princess?” He asked, looking so smug now that I managed to find my voice again despite the trembling in my thighs. 

I cleared my throat. 

“Your brother wants you to floo him,” I said. 

The look of surprise on his face was a beautiful thing.

  
  



	4. You know this place has a dress code, don't you?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your responses just continue to overwhelm me. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying this story as much as I and I look forward to each an every one of your comments! --LM

“You’re late.” 

I slid into the open chair the boys had saved me and scowled at Draco. 

“I came as soon as I could,” I said, and it wasn’t a lie. 

I’d left Regulus in his vault the day before with a stunned expression on his face and knickers so wet I’d had to charm them clean upon returning to my office. Once there, I had been left scrambling to acquaint myself with the entirety of the Black holdings. As Curse Breaker on the illustrious account, I would be responsible for cleaning out any properties or vaults held in trust by the bank before they could be fully dispersed. Apparently, Regulus had left quite a lot in trust when he had left England. The assignment would not be over any time in the near future. 

I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about it. 

“You know this place has a dress code, don’t you?” 

“Ignore him,” said Neville as I glanced down at my uniform. It wasn’t fancy, but it wasn’t as if I’d walked in in jeans and a belly shirt. “You look lovely.” 

“Stop kissing up to her, Longbottom,” said Draco. “We both know you haven’t got a chance.”

“How’s work?” asked Harry, who himself was wearing a pair of quidditch practice robes. He’d probably just come from morning practice with his team. 

I shrugged, avoiding his gaze. “Standard.” 

It was too bad I was a rotten liar. 

“Why are you blushing?” Draco’s eyes were keen and he smirked as he leaned across the table toward me, pretending to inspect my cheeks. “What are you hiding?” 

I gave him a death glare. 

“Nothing.”

This time, it was Neville whose brows arched upward. 

“You see it too, don’t you Longbottom?” asked Draco, and his gaze narrowed as he studied me. 

“Drop it, Draco,” I demanded, and he crowed with delight. 

“So there  _ is _ something!” 

“What is it?” asked Harry, who was looking confused now. “They’re not giving you any trouble at the bank, are they?” 

“Of course not,” I said. “It’s swell. I’m  _ fine. _ ” I glared at Draco again, silently willing him to drop the subject. Of course, Draco never had and never would make things easy for me. 

“May as well tell us now,” he said, looking elegantly triumphant as he leaned back in his seat and waved for me to speak. 

I held up two fingers in his direction and he laughed. 

“Everything okay?” asked Neville, who was looking sweetly concerned now. 

“Yes, it’s fine,” I repeated. But then, I remembered my parting shot to Regulus, the comment I’d thrown in his direction to try and put him as off kilter as I’d felt. What if he followed through with the request I’d passed on to him? What if Harry was there and realized I had known he was back and hadn’t said anything? Would he be hurt because I hadn’t confided in him? I sighed. 

What could telling hurt? Grog-Kell had told me ‘Lord Black’ was returning to England for good and wanted all of his properties and vaults opened and made ready. He would find out sooner or later, and it wasn’t as if I had to announce to the table what sorts of activities we’d gotten up to beneath Gringotts.

“I got a promotion, actually,” I blurted out once I’d made the decision to just say something and have done with it. 

Harry’s eyes widened with surprise and I watched as relief flitted across his features. 

“That’s great!” he said. 

“Congratulations,” Neville added, looking relieved. 

Draco was the only one who looked sceptical, and he crossed his arms without saying a word as he waited. 

“I was made a full Curse Breaker,” I supplied, “and assigned an account.” 

“Whose account?” asked Draco at once. I avoided his gaze. He was much too sharp. Served me right for making friends with Slytherins. 

“I can’t say.” I shrugged my shoulders, as if the account itself were unimportant, but then I turned to Harry. “Something else happened too, actually,” I said. I could hear how breathy and nervous my words sounded, and I didn’t like it one bit. All the same, I pressed on. “I ran into someone.” 

“Who’s that then?” Harry took a sip of his water, looking a little uninterested but polite. 

I looked down at the place setting in front of me. 

“Your uncle,” I said. “He was at the bank.” 

I didn’t look up to see Harry’s expression at the declaration, nor did I grace Draco with a glance when he gasped audibly. It took several more seconds before anyone spoke at all. 

“Vernon?” 

Harry’s question took me by surprise and I blinked up at him. 

“What? No. Sirius’s brother. What would a muggle be doing in a wizarding bank?” 

“Wait,” Neville interjected. “You saw Regulus Black at work today? The same Regulus who—”

“No,” I said, cutting off Neville’s question with a warning look in his direction. “I saw him yesterday.” 

“Yesterday?” Harry settled back in his seat, crossing his arms as he seemed to study me. “How did you know it was him?” 

“That—” was a very good question. “He introduced himself,” I said. 

Draco scoffed and it was his turn for a wide eyed, wordless warning. 

“Why do you keep looking at them like that?” 

My heart began thumping rapidly in my chest and I felt a nervous sweat break out on my brow. “How?” I asked, and Draco actually snorted this time before I kicked him under the table and he let out a yelp. 

“Merlin, Granger, there’s no need to mangle me.” 

“Like you’re about to murder them both and harvest their organs,” said Harry, who was definitely sounding suspicious now. 

“Bloody hell,” said Neville, who was studiously avoiding  _ everyone’s _ gaze at this point. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” I said. Christ, was my voice always that high, or was I just really,  _ really _ terrible at subterfuge? 

“You sound like you’ve swallowed a pixie,” said Harry. “What are you hiding?” 

“Nothing,” I choked out.

And then Draco, the absolute prat, rolled his eyes and looked straight at me. “You would have been absolutely decimated in Slytherin,” he said before turning to Harry. “She shagged your uncle in Spain. Surprise.” 

“Gods.” Neville was covering his eyes now, his cheeks burning as he tilted his face up toward the ceiling. I worried for a brief moment that he might be dissociating, and then I was reminded that that would be the least of my problems. 

“She  _ what _ ?!” 

“It’s not a big deal,” I squeaked. 

Draco laughed. “Like really, just completely destroyed.”

“You  _ shagged _ Regulus? How long has  _ that _ been going on?!” 

“It was a one night stand,” Draco supplied, looking utterly thrilled to be able to say it.

“I’m going to kill you,” I hissed. 

“To be fair,” said Neville, and he sounded as if he were at least trying to be helpful. “I don’t think she realized it was him until he sent her knickers back.” 

“Oh my god.” I buried my face in my hands, trying to cool my burning cheeks and collect myself enough to  _ not _ reach for my wand and hex everyone at the table. 

“Wow. WOW.” 

When I managed to force myself to glance back at Harry again, he looked absolutely gobsmacked. I wanted to sink into the floor. 

“ _ Wow. _ ” He repeated. 

“You’ve said that already,” Draco remarked. 

“You’re a shit,” I spat in the blonde’s general direction. He only smirked at me and I was halfway to reaching for my wand when the server approached, a platter with four drinks balanced atop it in tow. I controlled myself long enough to let her do her work, but by the time she was gone, Neville had already reached sideways to pluck my wand from the bun where I’d been keeping it. 

“No hexing people in public,” he said mildly as he stowed it up his sleeve beside his own. 

“ _ People _ deserve it,” I protested, but I didn’t bother fighting him for the wand either. If Draco continued to cross me, I knew plenty of wandless hexes I could torture him with. 

“I’m sorry, can we get back to you sleeping with my uncle?” said Harry after another moment, and I blushed but crossed my arms and nodded stiffly. 

“Alright, fine.  _ Yes. _ I went home with him in Spain.” 

“He was tall, dark, and who knows what,” said Neville, filling in the blanks. 

Harry’s eyebrows shot up at the realization. 

“The one Pansy was into?” He snorted. “That makes sense.” 

“She always did like matched sets,” Draco drawled. 

“Leave Pansy out of it,” I said stiffly. She wasn’t there to defend herself, and the jabs were hardly sporting. 

“Fair enough,” said Draco. “You’re the one who seduced Harry’s uncle, after all.” 

“Can you stop saying that?” asked Harry, whose brow was furrowed now. “I don’t know the man, but it still just  _ sounds _ hideous. I mean… Well, we dated, Hermione.” 

  
“I’m aware.” 

“Lucky I haven’t got any uncles,” said Draco, and he had the audacity to wink at me. “My dad’s been known to take a mistress or two though, so I suppose if you’re into the family thing—” 

“I will murder you in your sleep.” 

“Down, girl.” 

“I have a second cousin in Wales,” said Neville. 

“But you and Hermione haven’t shagged, prat. She wouldn’t be interested.”

I stood. If they were going to go on like this, I wasn’t going to stay for it. 

“Oh sit down, Granger,” said Draco, snickering. “Don’t be a poor sport. Besides, Neville’s still got your wand.” Realizing he was right, I sank back down into my seat with a scowl. 

“You’re all arseholes.” 

“What’d I do?” asked Harry, sounding offended.

“Breathed, mate,” said Neville under his breath. 

“Can we change the subject,” I interjected. 

“Not happening,” said Harry and Draco at the same time. 

“So what’s Harry’s uncle doing back?” asked Neville. 

“Probably opening his English accounts again.” Draco watched me carefully for my reaction and I was careful not to give him one. “It’s obvious that’s how she met him. Sod probably requested her.” 

“Is he right?” asked Harry. 

“Of course I’m right. She’ll be servicing his account alright.” 

“ _ Densaugeo _ .” I muttered the word under my breath, pointing a finger at Malfoy as I said it and watching, satisfied, as the spell hit him in the face. 

“Hey now,” said Neville, sounding disapproving. 

“You bitch—” said Draco, but before he could say anything else his front teeth began to elongate comically. It served him right.

Working quickly, Harry drew his wand, ending the hex, but not before Draco’s front teeth had reached his chin. He sighed.

“Go get him taken care of, Nev,” he said, pointing toward the back of the restaurant as Draco glared down at me. “Bathroom’s that way.”

Neville gave a sharp nod, looking at me with a slightly frightened expression before he dropped my wand on the table and then guided Draco away. 

“That wasn’t nice,” Harry said, once they were out of sight. 

I scoffed. 

“He’s an arsehole and he deserved it.” 

“You’ll have to apologize later. You know how he hates having his looks messed about with.” 

I shrugged, but I knew he was right. As upset as I was, and as absolutely irritating as Draco had been, I didn’t want to actually ruin our friendship. I’d have to appeal to his vanity again sooner rather than later. A little bit of groveling might be in order. 

“About this uncle thing,” Harry continued, and I frowned, avoiding his gaze. “I assume it was a coincidence?” 

“Of  _ course _ it was,” I said. 

“Good, good. From what I’ve heard, he’s a decent enough guy. S’pose you could have done worse.” 

“Decent? Your dad told me he dropped off the map completely. Abandoned his family.” 

“You spoke to my dad about this?” 

I bit my lip, nodding. “Yeah. Sorry.” 

Harry shook his head, as if he could hardly believe it, but he let my admission go. “He didn’t abandon us,” he said instead. “He just… isn’t easy to get ahold of. He still deposits money on dad’s account every month. Like, excessive amounts. And he set up a trust for me. Sends presents and shit on birthdays.” 

“Oh. That’s…” Surprising. “Nice.” 

“Yeah.” Harry folded his arms, leaning back in his seat and looking thoughtful. “Dad makes it sound like Regulus had it tough growing up. I mean, they both did, but dad was always more of a rebel. Did he tell you Regulus was a Death Eater?”

I nodded and Harry sighed. 

“Well, from what I gathered, it wasn’t exactly a choice. He turned spy before the end. There’s an Order of Merlin First Class somewhere in Grimmauld Place with his name on it.” 

I wasn’t sure why, but the knowledge loosened something in my chest. 

“You owe me an apology, you cow!” Draco’s voice echoed across the restaurant and I cringed as several other patrons looked up from their meals curiously. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, aware that I still sounded belligerent as Draco took his seat again looking very put out indeed. 

“Hermione,” Neville tried, but Draco held up a hand to quiet him. 

“Do it properly,” he demanded. 

I sighed heavily. 

“You were needling her, Malfoy,” Harry interrupted. “Don’t be a sore loser.” 

“She messed with my  _ teeth _ !” 

“I’ve said I’m sorry. Look, can we just move on? I swear I won’t hex you again today.” 

“I looked like a bloody arse.” 

“Literally,” said Neville with a smile. 

“How about a change of topic?” Harry tried. 

Draco shook his head. 

“Apologise, or I swear I’ll have vengeance.” 

“Honestly, Draco, you’re so dramatic.” 

“I’ve decided to propose to Daphne.”

“Great, bloody vengeance that will leave you— Wait. You what?”

Draco, Neville and I all turned shocked faces toward Harry, who was blushing slightly now but grinning as well. 

“You heard.” 

We all spoke at the same time. 

“Congratulations!” 

“Why would you do a thing like that?”

“Happy for you mate.” 

After that, any mention of Regulus and I was dropped in favor of a round of drinks. I couldn’t have been more grateful.

*****

There was another note waiting for me at my flat when I apparated in. It sat on my nightstand, neatly folded with my name written in elegant script on the outside. I ignored it for as long as I could stand, taking the time to wash, slip into a nightgown, and brush my teeth before I broke down and unfolded it. 

_ Hermione,  _

_ I have business to close in Spain.  _

_ We’ll begin work on the manor house on Monday. _

_ I’ll be thinking of you.  _

_ Of the way you tremble for me.  _

_ Of the scent of you in the air, hot for me.  _

_ I know you’ll be thinking of me too. _

_ R.A.B. _

I shivered, opening my nightstand and tucking it in beside the necklace. Before I could close it, I hesitated. There it was again, the tingle of magic rolling off of the jewel in lazy waves. I grabbed the bag, opening it and dumping the contents onto the open palm of my opposite hand before I could talk myself out of it. 

It was warm against my skin, familiar and so comforting I almost wanted to latch it around my neck, to have it close to me. 

I bit my lip hard, felt my teeth sink down just enough that I tasted blood, and then I dropped the diamond back into the bag, threw it into the drawer, and slammed it shut.

*****

He sent me a note every night until Monday, and by the time I had dressed for work that morning— my Gringotts robes loose over jeans and a t-shirt I didn’t mind getting dirty as I sorted through dusty old cursed objects— there were six pieces of parchment stowed away in my bedside table. I hadn’t responded to a single one, but that hadn’t deterred him, and each night they’d grown progressively more… descriptive. 

_ When I see you again, Baby Girl, I’m going to show you how much I’ve missed you. I’m going to bury my fingers so deep in your cunt you’ll wonder how you ever existed without them.  _

_ Your nipples are almost as delicious as your sweet little clit, and if you knew the things I’ve imagined doing to them…  _

_ Can’t wait to have my tongue on you again, to feel you pulse beneath it and soak my lips with your— _

“No.” I said the word aloud. I couldn’t go on reciting his words in my head. I had to ignore the letters and be  _ professional _ . He was a client of the bank. I worked for said bank. Any tension or history between the two of us should be kept separate. 

_ I’ll let you ride my face if you want, Kitten. You’ll look so pretty from that angle.  _

I tucked my wand up in my hair and slammed the door on that particular line of thought, then I grabbed the full thermos of strong black coffee I’d brewed that morning and apparated out of the flat. 

The place where I arrived was overgrown but beautiful. There was a massive wrought iron gate directly ahead of me, but on either side stood two old, twisted oak trees. They were wild and huge and covered in moss, and so beautiful I thought briefly about climbing up into one and spending the day just dreaming there. Unfortunately, I didn’t have the luxury of time. 

I checked my wristwatch. It was an old silver piece that had once belonged to my grandmother and that I had rescued from a bin when I’d been ten. It hadn’t been fine enough for my mother, but to me, it was beautiful. 

I was already running late. I waved my wand at the gate, testing the wards. May as well start here and check whether there were any curses inlaid that needed to be dealt with. But when I touched the magic with the tip of my wand, the defenses seemed to melt away. 

“That’s odd,” I said under my breath. 

“The magic recognizes you.” 

At the sound of his voice, I felt myself flush. I’d forgotten in the week since I’d seen him last, just how devastating it was, how it primed me almost instantly and made me think of all the things he could say to me in those low, addictive tones. 

“What do you mean?” I forced myself to ask, turning to look at him behind me. He stood with both hands clasped behind his back, his black hair pushed back from his face and his grey eyes trained on mine. 

“The magic. When you accepted my proposal—”

“I did  _ not  _ accept.” 

He raised a single brow, letting the skepticism show on his face before he smirked and continued. “The magic disagrees.”

“The magic” I said, making it clear that I was really referring to him, “can go fuck itself.”

His eyes flashed for just a moment but then he laughed, full throatedly. He threw his head back, facing the sun and letting the rich sound pour from him until he managed to settle himself and look back down at me. 

“You’re stubborn,” he said. “I like that.” 

The compliment—was it a compliment?—made my cheeks warm again, and I avoided meeting his eye. 

“We should go in,” I said, changing the topic. “Is there someplace you wanted to begin?” I’d be going over the entire property eventually, but if there was a particular room he wanted habitable sooner rather than later, bank policy dictated I begin with it.

“Our bedroom,” he answered, and I blinked hard to keep from responding. 

“You mean your bedroom,” I corrected, when he said nothing more. 

He shrugged. “For now.”

_ Arsehole _ , I thought, biting my tongue as I turned without another word.  _ Stupid, seductive, sinfully attractive, arsehole _ . 

We made our way across the grounds, down a long, tree lined path, past a pond and into the manor. It was old. I’d have put the place down as a tudor era property if I’d had to guess, but there had clearly been changes made along the way. The whole place looked somehow gothic, though the inside was brighter and airier than I had anticipated. If Regulus hadn’t been at my back, watching my every move as he guided me through rooms and halls and up stairs, I might have paused to admire particularly lovely attributes along the way. As it was, however, I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. 

The bedroom itself was massive. There was a fresh looking trunk in the corner which I guessed was filled with new furnishings, because the ones there already were practically moldering before my eyes. 

“How long has this place been empty?” I asked despite myself. 

Regulus crossed to the bed, testing the mattress with two hands and sending a cloud of dust swirling up into the air. 

“A century at least. The last time the property was opened my great grandfather was Head of the House.” 

The knowledge surprised me. I would have expected a family like the Blacks to have at least summered in their more extravagant properties. This one looked as if someone had placed a few shoddy stasis charms and then left it to rot. 

Regulus seemed to catch my look of confusion because he began to explain unprompted. 

“Until recently,” he said, “The coffers were strained. My ancestors were many things, but business acumen was not one of their gifts. They were unwilling to part with many of the heirlooms in the vaults, and without them, they didn’t have enough money to maintain the place, or enough house elves to tend to it.”

It seemed odd to me, but I supposed I understood. Opening the hacienda in Spain had taken a lot, and with a property as sprawling as this one, I imagined the process would be even costlier and more intensive. My presence alone was proof of that. A Gringotts Curse Breaker was not inexpensive, and the price of my time came directly from the vaults of the account I was servicing, along with the bank’s fee. 

I was very well paid, even as a trainee.

“So what made you decide to put in the effort?” I asked, turning to face Regulus. “Now, I mean.”

“I need a place to live,” he said. “Grimmauld Place is taken.” 

“Why not just stay in Spain?” I asked, pressing the issue. “The penthouse was lovely.”

He smirked. “I wasn’t aware you’d spent much time studying it.” 

Ignoring the obvious innuendo, I crossed my arms and waited. 

At last, he sighed, sitting down on the edge of the old mattress and sending another plume of dust upward. It glittered in the air like tiny specks of swirling gold as the sun filtering in through the nearby window struck it.

“You’re not in Spain,” he said, so bluntly my eyes widened and I had to bite my lip hard to keep from gasping. Who  _ said _ things like that? 

“You barely know me,” I said, once I’d collected myself enough to respond. 

He stood, and I was struck once again by how large he was. His shoulders were broad, his head towering over mine. Long legs, muscled thighs, and a jawline I could cut glass with. He was beautiful and powerful and so exceedingly breathtaking I wondered how he could even have said yes to me in the first place. 

Approaching him in the club had been a passing fancy. And then I’d found myself face to face with him. He hadn’t moved from his spot near the bar, so I must have been the one to close the distance. I’d had a single drink already, not enough to impair me properly, but enough to make me brave. 

God, the things I had said to him. 

_ “You look like you could make a lady see stars.”  _

_ “Pardon?” _

_ “I think you heard me.” _

_ “Go away, little girl. I’m not interested.” _

_ “Pity.” I’d leaned back against the bar, resting my elbows there and looking up at him through my lashes.  _

_ He’d growled.  _

_ “What are you doing?” _

_ “Who, me?” I’d smiled up at him, throwing my head back to look at the ceiling and offering him an uninterrupted view of my cleavage. “Hoping you’ll change your mind and fuck me senseless.”  _

_ And then he’d leaned in, as if he couldn’t help himself, as if it were magnetic. He’d breathed deeply, and when I’d looked up his eyes had changed like mercury from smoky grey to a silver so bright I couldn’t look away. _

_ “You’d better not be here with anyone,” He’d said. I hadn’t understood why it mattered, but I’d shook my head.  _

_ “Just friends. Does this mean you—” All of my brazenness seemed to melt away as I met his gaze again. “You want to give it a go?”  _

_ “I’ll give you a lot more than that, beautiful.”  _

“I know enough,” he said, here and now. “I know how you like to be touched, what makes you scream. I know how you like to have your little clit licked in circles to start with, but straight lines the closer you get to coming. I know when you orgasm your cunt gives these fluttery little beats before it clamps down.”

“Mr Black—” I began, my voice hoarse as my pulse roared to life in my ears. That name on my lips sounded all wrong. Mr Black was Harry’s dad. He was polite and intelligent but sexless. This man, though, the one who took another step closer, until he was looking down at me and I could feel the heat of him radiating through our clothes and drawing me in… He was anything but.

“And I know damn well you’d rather be calling me ‘Daddy’ right now than ‘Mr Fucking Black.’”

I whimpered, actually whimpered as he said the words. 

“We should stop” I said, wanting to mean the words but knowing I didn’t. 

“You don’t want me to stop, Baby Girl.” One of his large hands settled on my hip, grabbing hard and pulling me against him so that I could feel his arousal against my belly. “You want me to keep going. Want every filthy thing I promised in my letters. I know you read them, Princess. Probably touched yourself thinking about them.” 

It was too much, too soon, too overwhelming. It was unfair he had this power over me, that being close to him made me lose my mind completely and want nothing more than to let him make good on every single naughty suggestion he had made. I couldn’t think when he was on me like this, couldn’t make decisions with the promise of his kiss inches away. 

“I— I have to go,” I breathed. 

“Like hell.” 

His hand on my hip drew me closer, pressing me flush against him as he leaned down and his chest rumbled. His lips were inches from mine, his opposite hand moving to tangle in my curls. It was too much. I  _ felt _ too much.

“Stop,” I said, the word so soft anyone else might have missed it. I almost expected he would. I’d only said it to give myself peace of mind after all, to assure myself that I wasn’t so wanton as to just let him speak to me this way and touch me this way without some form of genteel protest.

But then he froze. His hands on me stilled, and his lips— so close I could feel my own buzzing for contact— pursed. 

“That’s what you want?” he asked.

I felt rooted to the spot, trapped between the desire raging through me now like a cyclone, and the propriety I’d been clinging to since girlhood. 

“Y-yes?” 

He stepped back so quickly I nearly stumbled, his lips pressed into a tight line as his grey eyes focused on the floor between us. I missed him instantly, missed the broadness of him dwarfing me, and I felt like a fool for wanting to close the distance again. 

“I think I’ll start downstairs,” I said, searching for any excuse I could find to end the sudden awkwardness that had sprung up between us. He didn’t say anything, just shifted his gaze to me as I backed toward the door. I didn’t stop to say anything more, I just darted through it, and when my feet hit the hardwood of the corridor, I ran. 

I don’t know why I did it, why I felt the urge to move so fast, to put the space between us at a breakneck pace. Maybe it was because as I moved farther away from him, the urge to turn around and close that distance was so strong that I had to bite my own tongue to keep from doing it. Whatever the reason, the sound of my feet hitting the floor echoed almost as loudly as my heart in my ears. 

“Hermione?” I paused at the top of the steps as I reached them, turning to see Regulus standing in the doorway of the bedroom, his hands clenched hard on either side of the frame as he watched me. “Don’t run, sweetheart,” he said, and there was a pleading tone in his voice that struck something in me. It was that naughty, powerful part of me, the one who loved it when men looked at me as if I was the best thing they’d ever seen. The part that liked them lost in desire. 

I smiled at him, seeing how much he wanted… And then I ran.

“Oh fuck,” I heard from behind, and then he was after me, his steps rattling the whole space as I disappeared down the stairs and he hurtled after me. 

My flight through the house was a blur. I didn’t pause or slow as I checked over my shoulder, watching him gain on me as I went down another flight of stairs, but with every step I took, every inch he gained, I felt my excitement mount. By the time I reached the path toward the twin oaks at the edge of the property, he was nearly on my heels. My heart beat so wildly I could feel it in my throat.

I took six more steps, and then he was on me. We both cried out as we fell, but the impact of hard earth I’d been expecting never came. Instead, I landed on a solid, wide expanse of muscled male as he gave a gruff “oof”, taking the impact for us both. After that, he twisted, moving me so gingerly and so quickly that I barely felt the world spin, until I was beneath him. 

And then, everything I’d been feeling as I’d run— both the excitement and the strange arousal— peaked. His body above me was hot, and one of his thick thighs settled between mine as he used it to press forward against my sex, keeping me fully pinned to the ground as he gave a low, constant growl. 

“Don’t run from me,” he rasped. I barely recognized the sound of his voice as he spoke. “You can’t run from me, Hermione.” The declaration seemed to pain him, because there was regret in his silver eyes, regret and a naked desire it looked like he was struggling to control. Seeing that— seeing him there above me with his eyes wide and his nostrils flared as he struggled to regain his composure— made me crave something I couldn’t begin to understand. 

The thing that had intrigued me in the bedroom of the manor now exhilirted me. I arched experimentally beneath him, and his growl climbed to a fever pitch. 

“Or what?” I asked, the firm pressure of his thigh against my sex driving me mad. 

“I’ll catch you,” he ground out. 

I couldn’t imagine why that would be so bad, now that we were here, and his breath was intoxicating me, his eyes enchanting me. Why shouldn’t I give in to the same urges that had driven me to approach him in Spain? Why shouldn’t I enjoy the same pleasures? 

“Promise, Daddy?”

He blinked as I arched my back beneath him, and then, with a predatory grin, he pressed the top of his thigh hard against my clit. I gasped. 

He was right, ‘daddy’ sounded much better. 

  
  



	5. We're not in bed, sweetheart.

“Are you trying to tease me, princess?” 

If I had thought the things he’d made me feel back in the bedroom were too much, this was otherworldly. 

As his thigh ground down against my center, one of his hands trailed up my side, the fingers light over my robes until he reached my breast. He palmed it without hesitation and I arched against him, my exhale audible as he leaned down to nuzzle the side of my neck as he spoke again. The sensations together were so delicious I thought I might come just from having him there above me, touching me. 

“Or do you  _ need _ a daddy?” 

Hearing him call himself that was more than I had bargained for, and it sent a bolt of lust straight through me, making me yelp as he ground down against my clit again. The pressure was so bloody magnificent, the weight of him through the layers between us making me hotter than I’d been since the last time we touched. 

“Answer me, Hermione.” His words rumbled against the pulse in my neck and I sighed aloud. 

“Yes,” I answered, and as he stroked his lips over that pulse over and over again, back and forth, laving it just a little with his tongue, I gasped. 

“Yes what? You need a daddy? Need someone to take care of you and tell you what to do and…” he let his voice trail off and then latched hard onto the sensitive flesh where the column of my neck met the sweep of my shoulder. He sucked hard, letting me feel his tongue and his teeth before he let go with an audible  _ pop _ and looked up at me from beneath those, thick, dark lashes. “Is that what you need, baby girl?”

“God yes,” I said. 

“Say it.” 

I whimpered and flushed, struggling a bit beneath him until he snaked a hand between my cunt and his leg, using that powerful thigh to press it hard against me before he started to move his fingers, curling them and catching my clit as he did. 

“Oh fuck.” 

He chuckled, and the sound was deep and vibrant against my chest. 

“Hermione,” he said, and it sounded like censure but felt so fucking nice I couldn’t bring myself to care.

“Please,” I said, finding my voice again. “Need to come.” I needed it desperately. I could feel it building, could feel the way it pooled low in my gut and tensed right there at the base of my spine, waiting for him to touch just a little more, to praise me or kiss me or just brush against my clit until I was coming apart. 

“Hmm.” The pressure where he’d touched me faded, and I shivered as he shifted above me, moving his leg out from between mine and stradling my thighs. He didn’t put much of his weight on me, but all the same I was pinned as he sat up straight and I blinked up at him, bewildered. 

“What are you doing?” I sounded alarmed but I didn’t care. Where was he  _ going _ ?

He cut me off with a cross of his arms and a single disappointed look. 

“I can’t give you what you want unless you tell me,” he said, and I had the absurd thought that he would have made a fine Hogwarts Professor with the tone he was taking. 

“What?” His hands had returned to my hips, and I could feel his thumbs tracing small circles through the fabric. I couldn’t keep my thoughts straight, couldn’t focus on anything more than the feel of him against me. What was he going on about?

He sighed, and then he leaned down again, his weight shifting forward as one of his hands settled against the ground by my head and the other skated to my waist. His mouth by my ear now, I stilled. “Do you want me to be your daddy,” he asked. He sounded curious, not eager, as if any answer I gave him would be acceptable. 

Did I? 

I liked it here, the sound of the word on my lips as he heaped praise on me and told me what he wanted… gave me what I wanted. But beyond that?

“Like this?” I asked, because I was in my head now, and I was much too thoughtful to not be curious and explore what I might be agreeing to. Even the heightened state of arousal I found myself still reeling with couldn’t take that analytical bent from me. “In bed?”

“We’re not in bed, sweetheart,” he reminded, the words rumbling from his lips to my ear. I quivered.

“I mean when we’re… getting amorous.”

He chuckled, and then he licked the shell of my ear before nipping at the lobe and answering. 

“When we’re fucking?” he asked. “Yes.” 

I moaned. 

“But not when we’re… not?”

He stilled at my question, and then he pulled far enough back that he could look me in the eyes. His were smoky grey and focused entirely on me. 

“I’m not interested in controlling you outside of times like these,” he said bluntly, “if that’s what you’re asking.” He dipped his head back down to lap at my neck and then continued. “But when we’re like this… When you’re desperate for me and your hot little quim is all wet and wanting… Oh baby girl I want nothing more than to boss you about.”

And bloody hell if that didn’t just sound fantastic… but something else was nagging at me, and I forced myself to say it aloud. 

“The necklace though,” I said, his tongue trailing over the hollow at the bottom of my throat now. “The diamond…” 

“It was an offer,” he growled, nipping at the top of one collar bone as he used a hand to draw down the shirt I wore, exposing it to him more fully. “I’m allowed to make offers.”

“You knew I wouldn’t understand— you wanted me to touch it and—”

“Damn right I wanted you to touch it.”

He was still growling, the sound low in his chest. I fought hard to remember exactly why the necklace had concerned me as he sucked on tender skin and my fingers carded through his hair, clenching tightly when his tongue fluttered against my chest. 

“Regulus—”

Perhaps saying his name had been a mistake, because at the sound of it on my lips, he groaned, and I felt his hands go to either side of my hips. He grabbed hold of me— hard— and then he put his knees between my thighs and jerked me up towards him, where he was hot and hard and heavy, scorching through his trousers and grinding fully against the sweet spot between my thighs. 

“Oh!” 

“That’s right,” he said, voice hoarse. “You feel me? Feel what you do to me? Make me so hot I can barely think straight. It’s not fair, princess. Wanna make you hot too. Want you to need me so bad you can’t even breathe without aching for me.” 

I wasn’t far off, even as he whispered in my ear I could feel myself pulsing with desire, and with an anticipation so heady I could almost smell it. He breathed deeply and for a single wild moment I fancied  _ he _ could smell it. Then he shuddered, and he was leaning in to kiss me again, to claim my mouth with his in an imitation of what his tongue had done to my cunt the night we had met. Remembering it, the sensation of him plunging into me, made me gasp into his mouth, and another flood of arousal soaked my knickers. 

“Daddy,” I breathed the word without thinking when he paused to draw air, and his eyes glittered down at me in satisfaction. 

“What is it, baby girl? What do you need?” one of his hands was under my shirt now, stroking over the bare flesh of my abdomen and inching ever upward as he waited for my reply. 

“Want you in me,” I begged, not caring that I sounded like a wanton, not caring my mother would have called me a hussy and had a conniption before disowning me if she’d heard those words come out of my mouth in that voice. I didn’t need her like I needed him, like I needed oxygen and water and food to keep me going. Like I needed his cock, right this very second. 

“Now?” 

“Mhmm.” 

“Here?” 

I had to blink twice before I remembered ‘here’ was just a few steps away from the front door of his ancestral manor, out in the open air where anyone could see or hear us. 

“Yes,” I confirmed. Because I didn’t give a single shit. We could have been in the middle of Trafalgar Square, astride a bloody lion, and I’d still have begged for his cock. 

He bit his lip, and I watched as those straight white teeth sank down hard into the kiss swollen flesh. I wanted to bite it too, and it wasn’t a mild urge or a passing fancy, it felt  _ necessary _ . I didn’t ask before I arched up, looping an arm around his neck and pulling him down to me. There was just enough time to register the wide eyed look he gave me before my own fluttered closed and I pressed my lips to his. It was delicious to behold, and made the way  _ he _ yielded to  _ me _ all the sweeter. 

He let me explore him in the moments after that, groaning as I used my tongue and my teeth to take what I needed from him, to claim his kiss just as thoroughly as he had claimed mine. And then, just after I’d managed to sink my teeth into that lower lip and feel exactly how soft and firm and tasty it could be, he pulled back.

As I looked up at him, I could see him breathing hard, see his gaze narrowing down at me as he rubbed his lower lip with the back of one hand. I knew it would probably be tender later. I hadn’t drawn blood, but I hadn’t exactly been gentle either. I wondered if he would enjoy the sensation as much as I thought I would. 

“Kiss me like that, kitten, and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said, his voice low but not threatening… it sounded more as if he were  _ teasing _ me. 

“I don’t believe that for a second,” I responded, inhaling sharply as the hand which had stilled over my belly stroked upward and his palm came into full contact with my breast, his fingers stroking the bare skin above the cup of my bra. “You seem rather dedicated to control,” I finished, hating the sudden high pitch to my voice, the proof he’d managed to take me by surprise. 

He snorted. “Almost as dedicated as you are, I’d wager.”

And he wasn’t wrong, I  _ knew _ that, but my fascination with control wasn’t something I wanted to think about now, not with his hand where it was and his cock where it was, and my pussy aching for him. Right now,  _ here _ , I wanted what only  _ he _ could give me. 

“Right now I’m dedicated to the idea of being fucked by you.” 

He gulped. Audibly. 

I smiled in satisfaction. 

“Hermione… I don’t think I—” He paused, shaking his head as his hand smoothed back down to my waist, leaving my breast feeling bereft beneath the shirt I wore. “It’s not a good idea to—” 

“No.” The arm I’d draped round his neck moved, allowing my fingers to twine in the thick, wavy hair at the nape of his neck as I spoke. I didn’t know what was driving me, what brazen spirit had taken up residence in my soul, but I didn’t care either. I was past caring about consequences, past worrying about what fucking a client of the bank could mean for my career, or what he’d meant by sending me an incomparable family heirloom. I was done with it. 

“Beg pardon?” Regulus blinked down at me. 

But not with him.  _ Him _ I thought I might never be done with, not until he was balls deep and coming so hard he’d forgotten the names of all his closest kin along with his own, all replaced with nothing but the feel of me riding him.

“I need you,” I said, and I couldn’t keep the pleading note from my words as I spoke, lifting my hips so that I could feel his cock slide over my mound through our clothes again and shiver at the sensation. “Please, Daddy.” 

And that seemed to do it. 

“Fuck,” he growled, and then his mouth was over mine, his tongue plunging deep as one of his hands grabbed my arse, pulling me up so hard against him it knocked some of my breath into his mouth. “When you beg so well, I can’t say no.” 

“Don’t need to say it.” 

“Oh princess, I really,  _ really _ should.” 

But I still didn’t care, even though he sounded as if he were fighting hard to keep himself in check. All I cared about was the fact that my hands had found their way to the buckle of his belt, and I’d almost managed to work it free. 

“Fuck me,” I demanded, once I’d managed to lower his zipper. 

Somehow, he’d already managed to work my shirt up and my bra down, and his fingers were toying with my nipples as he responded. “I’ll do what I want to you,  _ when _ I want, won’t I, baby girl?” 

He tugged on both nipples at once, holding fast and sending a delicious jolt straight to my sex as I moaned aloud. 

“Yes,” I said. “Whatever you want.” 

I barely registered the faint pop to my left after that, all I could feel was the way Regulus stilled over me, his mouth inches from my left breast and my right nipple still caught tight in his grasp.

I did, however, register the heavy, disapproving sigh that followed. 

“Shit,” said Regulus, releasing my nipple and hastily pulling my top back down to my navel.

“Kreacher is appalled, Master!” 

Regulus had rolled off of me entirely by the time I realized someone else had spoken. 

“Shit,” I said. 

“Kreacher is astounded. Such indecorous behavior here on the lawn of Master’s forefathers would shame poor Mistress Walburga.” 

“You have a house elf!” I said, perhaps louder than was warranted as I rolled to my stomach and hopped up quick as I could, realizing as I went that my breasts were still balanced above the edge of my bra. I turned my back on both beings to fix them. 

“Kreacher is at your service, Mistress,” said the stooped little creature, pausing to bow in my direction before he turned back to his master.

“Kreacher.” Regulus sounded exasperated as he said the elf’s name, and the ancient looking creature huffed before drawing itself to its full height. 

“Mistress Walburga would be  _ ashamed _ , Master Regulus. Such scandalous behavior would stop her poor heart beating.” 

“Her black heart’s  _ already _ stopped beating, and we can both thank the gods for that.” 

Kreacher hissed but said nothing more. He just stiffened his spine as far as he was able— leaving a noticeable hump still in the process— and said, “Lunch is set in the garden.” He then nodded in my direction and disappeared with another soft pop. 

“Are all your elves so…” I searched for a word to describe the dour little elf who had so thoroughly chastised the indomitable looking man in front of me. 

“Unpleasant? Whenever he has the opportunity.” 

“I was going to say assertive,” I said.

Regulus laughed, motioning for me to step ahead of him and head back into the house. 

“That’s a kind way to say he’s a bold little shit.” 

I laughed despite myself. 

“Don’t be unkind.” 

He shrugged. 

“I’m allowed a little unkindness where Kreacher is concerned. He’s a disobedient, overbearing lout.” He looked positively proud as he listed the attributes.

I furrowed my brow. “You don’t punish him for it, do you?” I knew some of the older families were inclined toward such behavior when it came to their servants. Draco’s father was downright nasty to his, and it had always made me uncomfortable. On one occasion in second year, I’d even convinced Draco to free the elf which seemed to draw the  _ most _ ire from the man. The little elf had joined Hogwarts staff after that and always made certain I had an extra pudding when I wanted it.

“I tried once,” Regulus admitted. “Turns out the beast actually likes polishing silver.” 

*****

“It’s early for lunch, isn’t it?” 

I watched as Regulus took a seat at the table on the stone patio. The potted plants had long since died, but someone had swept the floor and set out what looked like a new table with wrought iron chairs and a large umbrella overhead for shade. The glass top of the table was laden with picnic foods and two heavy looking goblets filled to the brim with pumpkin juice.

“This is when Kreacher is having time.” 

The house elf pulled one of the chairs out, waving a hand and indicating that I should sit in it. I did, feeling awkward now at what he had witnessed. Kreacher snapped his fingers and my chair scooted back toward the table. 

“Isn’t your job having time whenever I want you to have time?” asked Regulus, sounding not at all curious. 

“Just as master’s job is not disgracing the most noble and ancient House of Black by rutting on lawns,” responded Kreacher, snapping his fingers and setting tongs to serving food to each of us. 

“Merlin, you’re in a mood today.” Regulus took a sip of his juice and then grabbed a sandwich as I watched their exchange, astounded. “Is your back bothering you again? Would you like me to Owl St. Mungos?” 

Kreacher hissed. 

“Master will do as he pleases, but Kreacher is only disappointed in his master’s poor judgment.” 

“Hmm.”

It was my turn to take a sip of my drink, and though I normally wasn’t fond of pumpkin juice, this one was genuinely exquisite. I drained half the goblet, not having realised how thirsty I was, and then set it back down, only to see Kreacher grinning toothily at me.

“It is a special recipe, Mistress,” he said, and then with a snap of his fingers the nearby jug filled my goblet to the brim once more before Kreacher’s grin faded. “Though perhaps you is not wanting Kreacher’s help. You is not wearing the honor of your station.” 

I looked to Regulus, frowning as Kreacher shuffled to the other side of the table. 

“The necklace,” Regulus clarified. 

“Oh!” I blushed despite myself. The elf knew about the diamond. And clearly he knew what it meant. And he— like the house, apparently— seemed to think I’d accepted the proposal the diamond had extended. “I mean no disrespect, Kreacher,” I said, looking down at my plate. “It’s just… I haven’t actually agreed to your master’s… proposal.” 

Kreacher scoffed. 

“You is not needing to agree. You is Master’s intended, and what is more is you is—”

“Kreacher!” Regulus’s voice was sharp and jarring compared to the tone he’d taken with the house elf thus far, and I flicked my gaze up toward him, narrowing it. Kreacher fell instantly silent, crossing his arms and staring sullenly at me. 

“I’m what?” I asked, my heart pounding now for no reason in particular. 

“You’re fetching even without the bauble,” said Regulus, grinning again. 

“She be more fetching with the honor of her station around her neck,” commented Kreacher dryly. 

Regulus sighed, and I forced a smile, giving it to the elf. He was clearly old, and if I knew anything about the elderly, it was that they were entitled to be curmudgeonly when it suited them. I tried to think of something to say to diffuse the tension and put the elf at ease, and when I saw a glint of gold at his neck that I hadn’t noticed before, I decided it would do. 

“That’s a lovely locket you have, Kreacher,” I said. “I’ll bet it looks ten times better on you than the other thing would look on me.” 

Kreacher harrumphed, but I noticed his teeth showing again as the corner of his mouth turned up and he popped away, leaving me alone with his master once more. The moment he disappeared, I felt his absence. There was something about being alone with Regulus Black that got to me, that made me  _ aware _ of him, no matter where we were in relation to one another, and as the air shifted infinitesimally, it flared to life.

“Well spotted,” said Regulus, sounding amused. “That old thing is his pride and joy for some bloody reason.” 

I shrugged. “We all have our little delights.” 

I regretted the words almost as soon as they were spoken. They were too… suggestive. 

“Yes, I’m coming to find that’s true,” he said, amusement fading as his eyes glinted at me again and he smirked. “Your delights in particular are… enchanting.” 

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” I lied.

“Shall I remind you?”

“No.”

“Should I explain how when your breath hitches and you beg me to—” 

“Regulus!” 

He chuckled, the sound rich velvet as he reached for his goblet, gaze never leaving me, and then took a sip. 

“You shouldn’t tease,” I reprimanded, picking up a grape and forcing myself to eat it as he watched, not giving him the satisfaction of looking unsettled. 

“Is that so?” 

“Yes.” I took another grape and then, because I had thought of it, I added, “I am technically your employee, you know.” 

He arched a brow. “You’re the bank’s employee.” 

“Technically,” I admitted. “But when I’m assigned to an account, I answer first to the account holder. So you see, it would be improper for you to continue that particular line of thought.” 

“The same line of thought that had you begging for my cock not fifteen minutes past?” 

I blushed again. 

“You forget yourself again,” I said. 

His chest rumbled, and he leaned forward, settling both elbows on the table as he stared at me. I couldn’t help but meet his gaze as he did it, and then I was captivated by it. The smoky grey was bright and shot through with silver, and the way he looked at me, as if he were hungry for me, made something inside of me sit up and take notice. 

“No,” he said at last, “When I’m with you, I know  _ exactly _ who I am.” 

The words were so earnest something deep in my chest ached at them. I blinked. 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” I protested, though it was a lie. A part of me thought it made a great deal of sense indeed.

“Does it have to?”

“Yes.” 

“Why?”

“It just does.” 

“Hermione.” 

“What?” I was getting flustered, and I didn’t like it. Regulus just grinned at me. 

“You’ve squashed that poor grape to smithereens.”

I looked down at my hand. He was right. I drew my wand to clear the mess and then stowed it away again before risking a glance back in Regulus’s direction. He was still watching me, but he was eating too, and so I thought perhaps a change of subject was due. 

“Harry told me you were a hero in the Blood War.” 

He choked on his pumpkin juice. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your nephew. Harry James Black Potter?” 

He frowned. 

“I’ve only the one nephew, I’m not likely to have been confused on that score.”

I shrugged. “Apparently you haven’t seen him since he was a baby,” I said. “Excuse me for seeking to clarify.” 

“I’m no sort of hero,” he said, ignoring my jab. 

“That’s not what Harry says.” 

“As you so  _ kindly _ pointed out, the boy was a babe during the war. He wouldn’t know.” 

“Mr Black said you were a Death Eater.” 

This time his nostrils flared and I watched as his gaze narrowed. 

“My brother?”

“I’d hardly call  _ you _ Mr Black after what we just—” I shut my mouth before it could embarrass me.

“No,” he said, “You have other names you prefer to call me.” 

Blushing again, I ignored the comment. 

“Were you, then? A Death Eater?” 

He took another long sip of his juice and then a bite out of a strawberry as he stared. I almost thought he would ignore the question all together, but then he nodded once, stiffly. 

“Yes.” 

“Why?” 

He scoffed. 

“Why do you think?”

“If I knew, I wouldn’t have asked.” And though part of me was afraid of the answer, afraid that he really had believed the things his compatriots had spewed about my kind… I needed to know.

He sighed heavily, and then leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. “How much do you know about my family?” 

“Um, I’m friends with Harry. We dated, actually.” 

Regulus made a face and then shook his head, as if banishing the thought. 

“Please, don’t ever mention that again,” he said, and his voice was low and guttural as he spoke. “And that’s not what I meant. Do you know any of the House history?” 

I shrugged. “Only what Mr Black has told me. He says he was disowned during the war. Your parents don’t seem to have been… Well, I don’t think they’d have liked me much.” 

Regulus snorted. “No, I don’t suppose they would have. Lucky for me, they’re long since dead.” 

I didn’t know what to say to that, but Regulus didn’t seem to need a response. 

“My mother was a cold bitch. A blood purist and a fanatic to boot. Tried to marry Sirius off to our first cousin at one point. Father wasn’t as obsessed as she was, but he certainly wouldn’t have held with either of his sons sullying themselves with a half-blood, let alone a muggleborn.” 

I bristled despite myself. 

“I was sixteen when my parents brought me before the Dark Lord and bid me pledge my allegiance. I did it, because he was there and he was terrifying, and it was either that or be crucioed to hell and back.” 

“So it wasn’t—” I stopped myself. I had questions, but this was  _ his _ tale. The least I could do was let him tell it. “I’m sorry,” I said. 

“No apologies necessary, kitten,” he said, but the smile on his face didn’t quite reach his eyes as he continued. “I know you must be curious.” He looked down at his left arm, still on the tabletop, and then he reached down with the opposite hand to unbutton and draw up the sleeve of his shirt. Once he was done, I could see an ugly looking scar on his arm, faded with time and with a hint of gray in it that made the flesh look dead.

“I took this mark in my parent’s drawing room. I did it because it was that or die a painful death. At the first opportunity, I got out.” He let the shirtsleeve fall again, covering half of the mark. 

“So you didn’t—-” I swallowed.

“Ask, Hermione.” 

“You didn’t believe the lies they told? About people like me?” 

His gaze softened and he shook his head. “Not then,” he said. “There was a time, when I was young, before Hogwarts and a whole host of Muggleborns who were cleverer than I was taught they could be… but I hope you can forgive me for that early ignorance. It did not last beyond my third year.” 

Relieved, I smiled at him. 

“I can hardly blame you for your parents’ prejudice.” And then, because I was feeling bold, I met his eyes again. He was looking at me as if I were the sweetest thing he’d ever seen, as if I were the moon on a cloudless night, full and shining and enchanting. 

“Come back to the bedroom with me,” he said after a beat. “Let me finish what we started there.” 

It would have been a lie to say that I wasn’t tempted by the offer. More than tempted, really. Most of me longed to accept, to leave the early lunch on the table and go with him, up the stairs to the ancient looking bedroom. I wanted to feel his hands on me again, his tongue on me. I wanted to explore the pieces of him I hadn’t even seen yet and get to know him  _ thoroughly _ . 

But the sane part of me, the part that was aware that I was there on Gringotts business and that this man had proposed to me without so much as a real conversation… it won out. 

“I need to get to work,” I said, pushing my plate away from me though I had barely touched it. “Grog-Kell was clear about wanting reports. I’ll have to have something to tell him.” 

I didn’t look back up at him as I stood. I couldn’t risk it, not if I was going to leave that garden and head back into the house without flinging myself at him. 

“I’ll see you later,” I said. And then I walked carefully away, keeping my pace and my gait even, remembering as I went what had happened when I had run from him before. 

I found myself in the sitting room nearest the front doors before I stopped moving, and I listened for a moment to see if he was following. When I realized he wasn’t, that I hadn’t even heard him stand when I’d turned my back, a confusing, bitter disappointment swept through me. I pushed it down, pulling my wand to begin scanning the room for cursed objects. I didn’t want to examine the feeling, or think about what it meant. 

I had work to do. 

  
  



	6. Stop you wicked harlot!

Though the defenses around the manor— Blackgate Hall, as I had learned it was called— had melted away at the first touch of my magic when I had arrived at the manor, the curses inside of the home didn’t seem to be nearly as accommodating. Biting teacups and boggarts all resisted me as I worked, and it took me two full days to get through the sitting room in its entirety. Half the time had been spent on a series of small but stubborn enchantments which had seemed all but impervious to my magic until I’d managed to crack them with blunt force, while the rest of the time had been spent trying to figure out how to unstick a fucking portrait from the wall. 

“There you are, you bitch,” I breathed as I felt the permanent sticking charm give under my attack, and the runes I’d drawn in the air all glowed so brightly I had to shield my eyes. 

“Stop! Stop you wicked harlot!” 

The woman in the portrait shrieked as her frame clattered to the floor, and I crowed in triumph. 

“Oh! You’ve broken it! You’ve broken me!” 

“Shut up, you cow.” I said, and then I repaired the small crack before tucking my wand away and eyeing the bare spot on the wall triumphantly. “Permanent sticking charms decrease home value. You oughtn’t to have been hung that way in the first place.” 

The witch in the painting glared up at me. “It was my  _ express _ wish,” she hissed. “To always have a place of honor in this home. And you have ruined it!” 

“I haven’t ruined anything,” I argued, leaning down to pick up the frame and hanging it gently back on the small hook where it belonged. “You can stay right where you are unless Regulus decides otherwise.” 

“How dare you manhandle me, you scarlet woman! You stand there in trousers, disgracing this House with your foul language and your brazen affectations! I shall tell Phineas, and  _ then _ you shall regret it!” And then, the painting burst into noisy sobs and darted out of her frame entirely, leaving me in silence at last. 

“Absolutely mental,” I muttered as I turned from the now empty portrait to face the rest of the room and survey my handiwork. It had taken longer than I had expected to clear the space of undesirable enchantments, but I’d done it nonetheless. The sideboard which had been locked to all but a specific, long dead person had been opened. The settee which had delivered a nasty shock to anyone who wasn’t a part of the Sacred 28 had been neutralized. The pianoforte which had been hexed to make every seventeenth note a C flat, had been dealt with. As I had worked, Kreacher had come in behind me, polishing and sweeping and repairing what needed attention, and now the room looked pristine. 

It was a shame I was the only one there to admire it. 

_ No _ . I cut off that particular line of thought. It didn’t matter that I hadn’t seen the master of the house since I’d left him in his garden. It didn’t  _ matter _ that he’d probably been avoiding me because I’d asked a litany of probing questions and then walked away from him without delivering on the erotic suggestions I had made out on the lawn. That was  _ his _ problem, not mine. 

And I wasn’t at all disappointed that he hadn’t sought me out since. Not a single bit. 

Not even a little.

“Mistress?” 

“Oh!” I startled as Kreacher popped into the room, addressing me with a small bow and a glower at the sight of me in nothing but muggle jeans and a jumper. I’d long since abandoned the work robes Gringotts had given me. They’d been far too warm to work in. 

“If you is done here, Master has asked that the study be next,” said the elf, and then he muttered loud enough that I could hear, “Though why Mistress sullies herself with such menial labor, Kreacher will never know.” 

“Thank you, Kreacher,” I said brightly, ignoring his comment as I collected my robe from it’s spot on the settee, shrinking it and slipping it into my back pocket. “Would you mind very much showing me the way?” 

Kreacher said nothing, he just sniffed and then turned, shuffling from the room without even indicating that I should follow. Assuming he was doing as I’d asked— which was a risky assumption on its own— I trailed after him. This time as we made our way across the house, I took my time admiring the architecture, as well as the unique pieces which could only be found in houses such as this. We passed a large, marble fireplace in the entrance hall, and I saw that Kreacher had been busy here too. The thing was spotless, gleaming as the firelight within flickered, and on the mantle sat what was either an urn or a floo pot. I couldn’t tell which without opening it up, but I was willing to take an educated guess. 

“Are you expecting someone?” I asked as we passed the flames. 

Kreacher didn’t even pause as he answered. 

“No, Mistress. The master thought perhaps his intended could use the floo in the future, rather than apparating outside of the gates like a low born strumpet.” 

I gasped despite myself, and I was about to ask whether Regulus had used those words exactly when Kreacher stopped outside of a set of elaborate double doors. 

“The study,” he said, giving another little bow and then popping away. 

I was left standing outside of the doors, my brow furrowed as I contemplated Kreacher’s words. I knew that the elf had a mind of his own, so I really shouldn’t have been shocked by the comment… and it would certainly be nice to be able to floo over in the mornings rather than walking in from the gate. Still. A strumpet? I couldn’t help but wonder whether the phrase had been Kreacher’s addition or Regulus’s verbiage. I supposed I would never know. 

Sighing, I checked my watch. There was still an hour to go before my work day was done. More than enough time to get a proper start on the study. I should at least have the time to catalogue the enchantments within. 

I pushed the doors in without knocking, pulled my wand from my high bun as I readied myself to begin the usual diagnostics. And then I froze. 

“What are  _ you _ doing here?” My voice was high pitched and my wand clenched tightly in my fist as one of the heavy doors swung inward, catching me in the shoulder before I took another small step into the room and it closed behind me.

Behind the desk that dominated the room, facing the doorway and framed by lovely, tall, stained glass windows, sat Regulus Black. He was dressed casually— more casually than I’d ever seen him— in a soft looking t-shirt the color of moss, and a pair of jeans I could only see because his booted feet were propped up on the edge of his desk. 

For a moment, he looked surprised by the sight of me, but the expression soon faded into one of appreciation as he relaxed back against his chair, setting the book he’d had open on his lap aside atop the otherwise bare desk. 

“Hermione,” he said, my name warm on his tongue. The sound shot through me, and I was embarrassed by just how much I loved it. 

“I thought you were out,” I said, my wand warm in my hand as it dangled by my side and I gripped it. 

He smirked. “Where? This is my home.” 

“Just…  _ out _ .” Perhaps the assumption had been ill conceived, but I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t made it now, so instead, I searched for supporting arguments. “I haven’t seen you,” I said. “Not since the first day.” 

“You kept to the sitting room,” he reminded me, smiling. 

“Yes, well,” dammit, “I would still have assumed you’d be by.” 

“Are you disappointed I didn’t come looking for you?” He ran a hand through his hair and then leaned forward, settling his booted feet on the floor and his elbows on his knees as he watched me intently. 

“No,” I lied. “Not at all. It’s just unusual. Clients usually like to be a part of the process.” 

“You know this from experience?”

I blushed. 

“I’ve been told.” 

“There are other processes I am far more interested in,” he said, and then he stood, coming round the desk but stopping when my eyes widened. He crossed his arms, sitting on the front of the surface with his legs spread wide as gave me an appeasing sort of look and I felt some of the tension bleed from my shoulders. “Are you scared of me, Hermione?”

“Scared?” Bloody terrified, but not of  _ him _ . He thrilled me,  _ excited  _ me. It was the things  _ I _ did in his presence that had me quavering. “Not in the least.” 

“You  _ look _ frightened,” he said. 

“Poppycock. I’m cold is all.” 

He arched one thick brow. “There’s sweat at your hairline.” 

I reached up, patting my forehead with the back of one hand and blushing. 

“Look,” I said, “I only came because Kreacher said you wanted me to start on this room next.” 

This time, both of his brows went up. “Did he?”

I nodded, getting a sinking feeling low in my stomach that I’d been had. 

“And you believed him?”

“I— I’ve never had reason to doubt an elf before. They’re usually…” 

“Obedient?” Regulus supplied. 

“More accommodating.” 

He laughed. “Kreacher learned long ago that obeying orders is not always the height of loyalty. He’s rather run away with the idea, I’m afraid.” 

“I’ll have to keep that in mind in the future,” I said, and at my words, I watched Regulus’s gaze deepen. 

“Yes,” he agreed, “you will.” He paused. “Speaking of the future—”

“No.” 

“Beg pardon?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

He narrowed his gaze. “You don’t even know what I was going to—”

“I can guess,” I said dryly. “But I’m only here for the curse breaking, so if you are using this room I can go elsewhere.” 

“Hermione,” he said, as his voice was low now, a warning note on the end of a soft growl. 

“I don’t want to talk about the bloody proposal!” 

His eyes flashed. “But I do.” 

“You don’t always get what you want.”

“I could say the same to you, and it would likely be truer.” 

“Regulus—” 

“If you think I’m going to go the rest of your time here pretending I’ve never touched you while you’ve—”

“For Circe’s sake.”

“—or that I don’t know what it feels like to have your sweet—”

“I swear to God, if you can’t stop, I’m leaving for the day.”

“—Then you’ve got another thing coming, kitten.” 

I sighed. This was ridiculous, but even as I acknowledged the outlandishness of it all, a part of me ached to spring myself across the emptiness between us and take up the space there between his parted thighs. It was madness, but the possibility was there, tempting me with every muscle he moved and every breath I took. I wondered for a moment whether the desire was all mine, or whether the diamond had something to do with it, and because I was  _ here _ and he was  _ there _ , and I was feeling bold, I let myself ask. 

“What enchantments did you activate on the necklace before you sent it?”

His gaze didn’t even flicker. “A woman as bright as you? You already know.”

“I didn’t— there was a third one. Old. I didn’t recognize it.” 

“Not old,” he contradicted. “I set all three myself.” 

“It felt… confusing.” 

His gaze softened, and the way he was looking at me made my heart beat faster.

“I imagine it did,” he said, and the words stoked something inside of me that was new and foreign and ancient all at once, something that arched its back and wanted to  _ smell _ him.

I swallowed, remembering my wand still in the palm of my hand and tucking it up into its spot above my head again. 

“Why did you send it to me, Regulus? Why  _ me _ ?”

There was silence for several long moments as he chewed on the inside of his cheek and stared at me intently, and then sighed before shrugging. 

“Is it important? You’ve already said you don’t want it… Though you’ve yet to return it.”

  
My eyes widened at the teasing words, and I heard myself huff as my jaw clenched and my spine stiffened.  _ Of course _ it was important. I’d found myself in his arms far more times than I’d intended already— even now I could feel myself drawn to him— and if he was the sort of mad man who would choose some random woman to bind himself to with nothing more to recommend her than her ability to come a dozen times in a row, I thought I deserved to know.

My temper flared at his evasiveness, and I let it take hold, getting the better of me as I turned on the spot and opened one of the heavy doors. I let myself out of the study and made a beeline for the fireplace. 

I’d return his bloody diamond all right. The next time I saw him, I’d shove the damned thing down his throat.

*****

I skipped work the next day, owling in sick and asking the bank to send my apologies to the account holder. I’d meant to storm home the day before and grab the bloody necklace then storm right back to throw it at him… but seeing the thing had stopped me in my tracks. There was something about it that made it feel… dear. So I stayed in, and I left the diamond in my nightstand with the notes I couldn’t help but reread once the drawer was opened. I stayed in and I stewed and I paced and I owled Pansy asking her if we could lunch sometime over the weekend because I needed to speak with her. She agreed, and then I stewed some more, unable to focus on reading or writing or any of the usual activities I occupied myself with when I was alone in my flat. 

I had planned to stay in on Friday as well, but by the time the sun broke that morning I was an anxious mess, and I decided I couldn’t allow the bloody jewel to control me any longer.

I would return it.  _ Today _ . 

Of course, as I was going to be returning it, and I  _ had _ already touched the thing once… and it was such a pretty bauble… why shouldn’t I just wear it there? When else would I have the chance to put on something so lovely? My parents were wealthy, but they weren’t 50 carat black diamond wealthy, and unless I someday met and married Prince William— who was three years my junior, but a  _ prince _ — I doubted very much I’d ever be in possession of jewelry so fine again in my life.

Besides, a little sticking charm and my neck would be the safest place for the heirloom. 

With that decided, I felt my stomach jolt with anticipation and I made my way back into the bedroom quickly, opening the nightstand drawer and retrieving the little flannel bag before I could rethink my choice. 

The diamond settled hot in the palm of my hand, the same sweeping warmth radiating over every inch of me when it made contact and then melting away just as quickly. My hands trembled as I clasped the thin chain round my neck and then turned to look at myself in the full length mirror beside the bedroom window. 

I was dressed for bed still, in soft green silk I only owned because Draco had thought it would be funny to gift to me when we’d dated seventh year. The nightgown fit more snugly now, of course. I’d filled out since my time in Gryffindor tower and my hips were more broad, my bosom more generous. Somehow, that fact only served to highlight the diamond. Though black, it gleamed in the early morning light, sparkling in its silver setting and making my skin bright against it. 

It was lovely.  _ I _ was lovely in it. 

It was a pity I’d only wear it for a little while. 

Sighing, I turned away from my reflection and then dressed for the day. I spent more time than usual on my hair and makeup, but gave up on finding an outfit that did the jewel justice. Denim jeans, trainers, and a spaghetti strap blouse would have to do. I was still going to be working, after all, and the outfit hardly mattered if I’d be half hiding it beneath Gringotts robes. 

I spent the rest of the early morning thinking over a cup of good, strong coffee. I considered taking the diamond back off, but something about the idea felt wrong, so I left it where it was, nestled against my breastbone, just above the neckline of my shirt. After that, I considered not going in to work, but I reasoned that if I skipped again there was no reason to wear the diamond at all. 

Then, I thought about Regulus. I thought about him until my usual morning alarm sounded, and then I kept thinking about him until it was time to leave for Blackgate Hall. I thought about his grin, and the look he got on his face when I managed to shock him. I thought about the first time I’d met him in Madrid, the way he had dismissed me at first and then given me his complete, single-minded attention for the remainder of the evening. I thought about the fact that he’d referred to the manor’s master bedroom as  _ ours _ , about how the word had at once terrified and thrilled me. I barely knew the man, but when it came to him… I was a moth, and he was a porchlight left burning in the night. What was it about him that made him so magnetic? What was it about me that was so easily captivated? 

“Shit.” I checked the clock again. I was late. 

I took the floo to get there, my stomach churning as I spun through until I was stumbling out of a green flame into the gleaming entrance hall. Kreacher had added a little table opposite the hearth, and was arranging flowers in an ancient looking vase upon it. 

“Morning, Kreacher,” I said, once I had found my footing. 

The elf turned to glance in my direction, and then his mouth dropped open and his eyes widened, developing a glassy sheen as he stared in my direction. 

“Is everything alright?” I asked him after several uncomfortable moments of silence. 

Abruptly, the elf closed his mouth and grinned, nodding once. 

“Everything is as it should be, Mistress,” he said, and then he turned back to the flowers. 

“Right. Morning then.” I left the elf there to his work, brows furrowed as I made my way toward the study. It seemed the most likely place to find Regulus, given he’d looked comfortable there on Wednesday before I’d been sent in to disturb his peace. 

I paused when I reached the double doors, reaching up to wrap a hand around the necklace that had brought me back here. It was warm against the skin of my hand, and I could feel my own pulse vibrating through it as the hard edges bit into my flesh just enough to feel real. 

Releasing the gem, I opened the doors and stepped into the study. 

It smelled of him; like a walk through the wild, overgrown woods surrounding the property, and just beneath that, something just a little sharper. Tobacco and cloves? Whatever it was, it was  _ him _ , and I couldn’t help but draw in a single, deep breath as I searched the room. 

Except he wasn’t there. The study was empty but for the decaying stacks of things on the shelves behind the desk, a few new trunks against the wall, and the furniture he’d already unpacked. 

I frowned, spotting a half smoked cigar in an ashtray on the edge of the desk. I leaned down to inspect it and could see that it was still slightly damp where a mouth had been. He’d been here recently, then. Had he heard me coming and apparated out? Was he avoiding me? The thought stung, and I swallowed down the hurt, burying it beneath a healthy dose of annoyance. 

He wanted to make himself scarce? Fine. I could wait. It wasn’t as if I weren’t a professional, despite the awkwardness of our prior relationship.

No. Our prior  _ acquaintance _ . 

I had work to do, and if he was going to avoid me, all the better. I could curse-break without interruptions or heady kisses to distract me. 

Having convinced myself of that, I set to work.

*****

I wasn’t sure how long I spent dismantling enchantments after that, but I was certain the time could be counted in minutes rather than hours, which shocked me to the core. For as difficult as the work had been in the sitting room, here in the study the curses seemed to melt like butter beneath my wand. A nasty, slow acting hex on the desk which had looked as if it might take me a half a day at least to sort out had quivered and then given up the ghost when I had finite’d it. It was odd, and I wondered as I ended several more hexes on the books behind the desk, whether the jewel I now wore had made the difference. 

When I had taken it to Grimmauld Place, Sirius had sensed me. Had putting on the necklace made  _ this _ house sense me too? I knew that one of the enchantments on the Black Diamond had linked me to the Black Family magic, was that why the curses were responding so well to my commands now? Could the magic which had created those enchantments sense the same magic in me? I didn’t know— I  _ couldn’t _ know— But I thought I was right, and the idea was both disconcerting, and thrilling. 

Family magic was not something I had ever had experience with. I knew in theory that spells cast by wizards of the same family had similar signatures… but, in the past, purebloods had guarded such knowledge jealously, and what information I had ever been able to find about it had been in more recent texts.

This though? It was beyond anything I’d ever experienced, and the analytical part of me, the one who had absolutely delighted in scoring better than every single one of my peers at Hogwarts, wanted to examine it further. The wards at both Black properties I’d visited had seemed to recognize me, but the change in my ability between Wednesday and today was striking. Could wearing the necklace— what Kreacher had called ‘the honor of my station — have made the difference? I thought about taking the thing off and testing the theory. There was still a small, cursed snuffbox on one of the shelves I could use if I wanted. 

My hands twitched and I decided after only a few moments. 

My fingers on the clasp of the silver chain at my neck were cool in comparison, and I fumbled with the little mechanism for a moment, my heart beating wildly as I worked. I couldn’t explain why I was suddenly nervous, all I knew was that my fingers trembled. 

And then, just as my thumb settled on the lever of the clasp, the doors behind me swung open all at once and I jumped, stumbling forward and releasing the chain to catch myself on the desk in front of me. 

“Merlin’s fucking pants,” I swore as the top of my knee banged hard against the mahogony desk, sending a bolt of pain radiating up my leg. 

“Are you alright?” 

He was behind me before I had a chance to right myself, his large hands on my hips to steady me, gripping just a little harder than he had in the elevator on the night we had met, making me remember the way he’d gripped them when he’d had his handsome face between my thighs. 

I stilled. He was so  _ present _ , and I could feel the heat of him at my back even though the only point of contact between us was where he touched me. He was impossible  _ not _ to feel.

“Fine,” I answered, rubbing my knee and then forcing myself to stand up straight. His hands loosened enough that I was able to turn to face him, but his fingers trailed over me until I was able to look up directly into his face. 

There was stubble on his jaw, and it only made him  _ more _ handsome, which seemed unfair. He was watching me curiously, a hint of concern in his grey eyes before he let them sweep down my front, checking me for damage. 

I knew the instant he saw the necklace over my breastbone. The breath he drew was sharp, harsh. His gaze widened for just a moment, and then flashed silver in that mercurial way I’d come to expect… the way that excited me despite myself.

“Well well, kitten,” he breathed, looking up to meet my eyes and making me feel naked with just that single look. “What have we here?”

  
  



	7. Did you wear this for me?

I swallowed hard but said nothing as Regulus’s gaze returned to the diamond dangling from my neck. 

“Did you wear this for me?” he asked, leaning into me until the backs of my thighs were pressed against the edge of his desk. 

“Hardly,” I said, trying to sound unaffected but failing miserably. 

He laughed, leaning down until his stubbled jaw was scraping the side of my cheek, sending shivers down my body to pool in my sex. “For yourself then?”

“Yes,” I breathed.

“Wanted to see what you’d look like?” His voice dropped again as he whispered in my ear. “Did you look at yourself bare, with just the diamond to cover you?”

“Don’t be crass,” I said, despite the thickness in my throat. 

He chuckled, and one of his hands came up to stroke the cheek on the other side of my face. His skin was warm and just a little rough against mine, and I couldn’t help leaning into it. 

“I think you like me crass,” he said, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he spoke. “I think you like hearing me tell you how much I want you. Like it when I say all the filthy things I want to do to your sweet, tight little—”

“Enough,” I choked out, the word sounding strangled. If he kept speaking like that, if he said anything more, I didn’t think I’d be able to control myself. I’d give him everything he praised, let him avail himself of every pleasure I had to offer, and I’d thank him for the privilege.

He only hummed in my ear, the hand on my cheek trailing down over my jaw, then neck, then the side of my breast until it settled on my waist. He kissed the skin just behind my ear then, and I felt his tongue, hot as a brand as it flicked out to taste me. 

“Tell me to stop,” he rumbled, the sound shooting through me like an arrow. “Tell me you don’t want this, Hermione, and I’ll go.” 

And a part of me wanted to. I wanted to do as he’d said and tell him I didn’t want his hands or his mouth anywhere near me… but I wasn’t a liar at my core, and somehow uttering  _ this _ lie  _ now  _ seemed tantamount to heresy. 

“Regulus.” His name was all I could bring myself to say, but he seemed to understand, because the hand at my waist dropped to my hip and then curved to my arse, gripping tightly and pulling me against him so that I could feel the heavy heat of his arousal against my belly, 

“You can’t, can you?” He whispered. I could feel my pulse pounding at my neck where his lips caressed next. As he kissed the spot, I thought he could feel it too. “Because you feel it as well.” 

“Reg—”

“Tell me you feel it, princess. Tell me you can feel it pulsing in your pussy and in the back of your head, begging you to fuck me. Gods, it’s all I’ve been able to feel since I first smelled you.” 

Fuck. His words made no sense, but somehow, they rang so true I felt as if I might cry. He licked my pulse point this time as he breathed deeply and I shuddered, my knickers soaking themselves in the proof that I wanted him, that I might go mad if I didn’t have him. 

“I want—I need—” I couldn’t think how to end the sentence. I wanted so bloody much,  _ needed _ even more. Things I couldn’t name or acknowledge that existed on a primal level, begging to be let loose. 

“I know what you need.” He said, his lips vibrating against the column of my neck. And then he stepped back, eyes bright, shining silver as one corner of his mouth turned up in a devastatingly sexy grin and I realized there was a small scar bisecting one of his eyebrows. “Clothes off, baby girl.” 

I thought about ignoring him, about pulling my wand again and hexing him then running through the house until I’d fled back to safety… but what he was offering— what his eyes were begging me to give him— it was what I wanted too, despite every shred of decency or speck of common sense in my skull. 

“Like this?” I reached up boldly, my heart racing as I unclasped my robes and shrugged them off of my shoulders. They slid down my arms, pooling on the desk behind me for a moment before slipping to the floor. 

“It’s a start.” The words rasped out as he carefully,  _ methodically _ , began to unbutton and roll up the cuffs of his long sleeved shirt. The folds he made were neat and crisp and practiced, and I watched as his forearms flexed before he looked up at me again. “Your turn.”

I swallowed, tugging up my top and feeling my newly bared flesh prickle as the cool air swept over my belly. Soon, the shirt was beside the robes on the floor, and I was left only in a pair of jeans, and my bra. For some reason, my eyes riveted on the dark mark on his forearm then, and I forced myself to look back up at his face.

He sighed, sounding both entertained and disappointed. “Everything, Hermione. You know how this goes.” 

“It hardly seems fair,” I argued, and his eyes flashed. 

“Fair?” he asked. “Is it fair how you’ve kept me waiting to feel your sweet cunt on my tongue again?”

“I—” 

“Is it fair how you make me want you so much I can’t think of anything else?” 

He took a step toward me. I could smell him again, the scents overwhelming me as I breathed deeply and trembled at the brush of his hands on my abdomen. His fingers began to work open my jeans. 

“Is it fair that I’ve dreamed of you every night since Spain, that I left my vault with your scent so thick on my hand that I couldn’t make it out of the bank before taking myself in hand?”

“God,” I said, and his grin as he tugged my jeans and my knickers down together was almost feral. 

“Fair would have been you swallowing my cock for hours until you couldn’t taste anything but me anymore,” he said, his voice hoarse now as I kicked off my shoes and let him rip my bottoms the rest of the way off before tossing them across the room. “But I don’t  _ want _ fair, princess. I want  _ you _ , screaming for me again. I want your tight little pussy clenching around my fingers until you don’t think you have anything more to give.” 

I wasn’t sure when he’d unclasped my bra or where it had gone, but as he hoisted me up, sitting my bare arse on the desk and gripping my hips so hard I knew I might have delicious little bruises the next day, I was grateful it was gone. His head bent and he took one of my nipples, already hard in anticipation, with his teeth. He let them scrape over the sensitive flesh at first, and then he bit down, hard enough a jolt of electricity went straight down my body to my clit and I cried out. 

“Oh  _ fuck _ ,” I moaned, as he began to soothe the small hurt with his tongue. He sucked the whole nipple into his mouth, drawing deeply until there was blood pounding in the tip and I felt a warm flood of arousal between my thighs. 

“Daddy,  _ please _ .” I didn’t know where the words came from, or what I was asking for other than the pleasure to continue. Maybe I was asking for  _ him _ to be the one to take control, to be able to lose myself in pleasing him. Maybe the word just sounded so filthy in my ear that it made my pussy wet and my body pulse with his reaction. 

A soft growl, a flick of his tongue, and teeth on the underside of my breast. 

“Gods, you’ve got the most perfect tits I’ve ever seen,” he groaned against my ribcage. “I could bury myself in them. My face, my tongue, my cock. I bet they’d feel like heaven on my shaft, wouldn’t they, princess? 

I pictured it, his hard arousal stroking between my breasts, wet with my saliva and smooth and hot against my skin. Would I be able to take his head in my mouth on every upstroke? Would he like that? 

“I think you would,” he continued, one of his hands cupping my sex now. I kept myself neatly trimmed where he was touching me, and I knew that he could probably feel the wetness slipping from between my folds. I should have been embarrassed, but all I felt when he trailed his middle finger along my seam, dragging the slickness up toward my clit and circling it once, was a heady desire. 

“Tell me what you want, baby girl.” 

“Want to be full of you,” I admitted as that finger slipped lower, teasing my entrance as his thumb brushed the top of my cleft, avoiding the sensitive clit he’d left pulsing. 

“You’ll have to ask nicely,” he said, as he circled, moving the wetness over my folds and seeming to take pleasure in the feel of it between his fingers. When I didn’t reply after another moment, he lifted his hand, trailing it up over my mound and then to his mouth. 

“Sweet Circe,” I said, as I watched him take those fingers between his lips and suck. His eyes fluttered shut at the taste and he inhaled deeply as his free hand smoothed over to the small of my back and then down to the cleft of my arse. 

“You’re the best thing I’ve ever tasted,” he said, once he’d managed to pull his fingers from his mouth. I could see some of my arousal still clinging to his lip. “Here,” he said, and those fingers stroked me again, coming up glistening as he held them toward me. “Would you like a taste?” 

I opened my mouth without deciding too, and when he smirked, trailing his slick fingers over my lips and then into my mouth, I shivered. 

“Suck,” he said, and I did. It tasted like musk, sweet and tangy and somehow arousing as hell. I swirled my tongue around his fingers, worked it between, until every trace of slickness was gone. 

He groaned. 

“Fuck, kitten, you’ll suck my cock so well. I can already tell.”

He withdrew his fingers from my mouth with a shaky exhale and then he was on me, stepping right up against me again and pushing me down by the shoulders until I was flat across his desk, my head dangling over the opposite end. I could see the wide window behind the desk, framed by bookshelves.

“Stay,” he demanded. My whole body pulsed in response. I heard him shifting near my knees, and then a soft thud as  _ his _ knees settled on the floor and he leaned in toward me. His breath was warm against my already heated flesh, turning the slickness that coated me cool against my skin and making me shiver as the tips of my breasts peaked. 

“Please,” I begged, just as his tongue drew a line over the juncture of my left thigh. 

He chuckled, pressing his lips full against the side of my pussy and letting me feel the vibrations and the delicious drag of his stubbled cheek against smooth flesh. “You can beg better than that.”

Fuck yes I could, and as my sex fluttered and clenched with anticipation, I gave myself over to the pleading. 

“Fuck me with your fingers,” I begged, “Need you inside of me. Your tongue on my clit, making me come.  _ Please _ , daddy.” 

He growled, and then his hands clenched down hard on the outside of my thighs, dragging me down the desk and then settling the backs of my thighs over his shoulders as he gave in and his tongue made contact right where I needed it, putting a steady line of white hot pleasure over my clit that drew me to the edge so quickly I screamed. 

“Don’t come,” he said, pulling back and murmuring the words against my vulva. “If you come now, that’s all you’ll get, do you hear me, baby girl?”

“I— I hear you.” 

“Good. Because this sweet pussy and every drop of honey it gives me… they’re mine.” On the last word, I felt two of his fingers slide into me. They were long, and thick, and he curled them upward to stroke a spot on the front wall of my cunt that made me shout. “That’s right,” he said, sounding hoarse as he drove them deeper and then withdrew to stroke that spot again. I felt myself stretch deliciously around him and threw my arm over my face, moaning into my own skin. 

“Feel this?” He said, stroking that spot again so hard that my toes curled and I whimpered. 

“Y-yes.”

“What is it?”

He pressed against it and I almost came. 

“Oh fuck,” I groaned. 

“Answer me, princess. What is this?”

“My—” He stroked the pads of his fingers over it once more and I felt as if I might combust. “My g-spot,” I answered at last. 

His mouth was between my thighs again, his lips laying soft kisses in a line from the top of my cleft down to the place where his fingers disappeared inside of me. 

“No,” he said against me, and his tongue darted out to circle my clit once before withdrawing. “Try again.” 

He slipped a third finger in to join the first two, and I felt so full that I moaned. 

“Hermione,” he chided, stroking that delicious bundle of nerves from within again. I had to grab my hair and tug hard to keep from orgasming at the sensation.

“M-my—” 

“No,” he said again, interrupting me and pressing up hard against the sensitive front wall. 

“Fuck, daddy please. Gonna come.” 

“Not before you tell me what this is, baby girl.”

When he pressed up against it again, his fingers stretching me wide as his lips closed over my throbbing clit, I wailed. 

“Yours!” 

His only answer was to curl his fingers more, press more firmly, and to suck my clit so hard into his mouth that my climax washed over me in an instant. It was a tidal wave, sweeping over every inch of my sex and outward to cover every available piece of me with a shuddering breathlessness that penetrated down to the bone and left me buzzing. 

When it receded, and I came back to myself with heavy lidded eyes, the light filtering in through the window behind me was almost jarring. It was broad daylight, and I was splayed naked across his desk, three of his thick fingers still spreading me wide as his lips trailed back and forth over my lower belly and he whispered praises. 

“So lovely when you come for me,” he said, “so tight around these fingers—” he pushed them just a little deeper as he spoke and I whimpered. I was still so sensitive, still clenching around him, and when he pressed into me like  _ that _ I could feel my body beginning to prime itself for him once more. “It’s like you were made for me. Made for me to keep right… here.” 

“Oh  _ shit _ .” 

The second orgasm came not long after, with his fingers still buried in my cunt and his tongue circling my navel as he talked me through it, telling me how much he wanted to keep me there, slick around him so that he could taste me whenever he wanted.

I think I might have begged him to make good on the thought, that I told him the only thing I wanted was him inside of me, that it was all that mattered… But he was stronger than I, and when I’d finished pulsing after the second climax, he withdrew. I felt  _ empty _ when he moved his hand, slick with my arousal, and trailed it up to my breast where he used the slickness to tease my nipple. 

“Don’t worry,” he said, moving to the other breast and giving it the same treatment, “I’ll give you what you need, kitten. I’ll make you come so well and so often you’ll forget what it was like to have anyone but me, forget you ever hesitated.” 

“Regulus—” 

He pinched the nipple, his fingers gliding over it in a hard little nip that made me shudder and cry out. 

“That’s what you want, isn’t it? Want to forget I was ever  _ not _ making you feel so good?”

“Yes, for the love of God—”

“The gods aren’t here,” he chuckled, and I felt his knees settle on the desk between my thighs as he scooted me back and my hair brushed the carpet beneath the desk. There was blood rushing into my head, but I didn’t give a shit, because the hand he’d been teasing me with was at my neck now, stroking it softly before settling against it. There was no pressure, but it was the hottest fucking thing I’d ever felt. “It’s just us.” He canted his hips against mine, the pressure of his cock heavy and thick between my thighs. “This.” 

His thumb stroked the diamond that had settled in the hollow of my throat, and he groaned above me. 

“Fuck, you look lovely in this. Such a good girl to wear it for me… I think you deserve a reward.”

“Please, please,  _ please _ .” I needed him in me, needed to be full in ways I knew his fingers alone couldn’t match. Fuck, how deep could he get his cock in me? I wanted to be brimming with him. 

“You want me to fuck you, baby girl?”

“Yes,” I breathed. 

He kissed the top of my breast, lapping at the nipple and then sucking on it briefly before looking up at me. I arched my head up, propping myself on my elbows at the edge of the desk to meet his gaze. The Black Diamond tumbled down my chest to the end of its chain, and I watched his gaze track it.

“I could,” he said, wearing a feral grin that made my stomach flip and then clench. “I know you’d let me. I could drive into you right here on this desk… flip you over and take you from behind while you screamed my name and I fed you every… single… inch.” 

Merlin, it sounded divine. 

“Do it,” I begged, my chest heaving and my whole body glistening with the sweat he’d wrung from me along with those two, shattering climaxes. 

His pupils were blown wide as he looked back up at my face, and I felt his fingers twitch around my neck as he bit his lip hard and then let his eyes close, hiding the shining silver of his irises. 

“Patience,” he breathed, and I wasn’t sure whether he was talking to me, or to himself. Either way, I disagreed with the sentiment. 

“ _ Daddy _ ,” I whinged, scooting an inch down the table toward him, until we were both groaning at the press of his arousal against me. “Please fuck me.” 

“Fuuuck.” The curse dripped from his lips, vibrating against my chest as he ground his hips down, ground his cock against my still slick sex through his trousers. I could feel the zip under it’s flap, hard and catching against my clit as it dragged through my folds. I wanted to touch him, and in that moment everything was impulse. 

I reached down, my hand finding the buckle of his belt unerringly and beginning to work at it as he swore into my shoulder, the hand around my neck moving to grip the edge of the desk at my back hard. 

“What are you—” His eyes were unfocused, and so bright they were completely captivating as I met them and grinned. 

“Helping,” I said, finally working the buckle free and beginning to tug the belt out of its loops. 

He blinked, and then in the next moment, his hand was wrapped around my wrist, dragging my arm up and pinning it just by my neck. 

“You’re not ready,” he said, and the declaration was as matter of fact as it was confusing. 

“But I…” 

He released my wrist, stroking the diamond between my breasts again and meeting my gaze with a look so earnest it was almost painful.

“Are you still planning to give this back to me?” he asked.

Something in my chest clenched. My first instinct was to say no, to tell him I wanted it around my neck almost as badly as I wanted him in my cunt… but the question was so sincere, I couldn’t bring myself to give him anything less in return. 

“I— I think so.”

He smiled, and though the expression reached his eyes, there was a sadness to it. I felt a curious little pain in my stomach. 

“You can have my cock,” he said after another moment, a teasing lilt to his voice, “When you promise to keep  _ this _ .” He tugged at the chain around my neck, and I opened my mouth to reply, but he cut me off with a kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips until I opened to him and he claimed my mouth with punishing intensity. 

After that, I lost track of time, lost track of what happened when or how many times he made me come on his tongue and his fingers and on the unbelievably thick ridge of him through slacks that stayed on the whole time. 

All I felt was the pleasure, and the  _ heat _ of him, and the diamond around my neck, heavy with promise.

*****

He was insatiable, and by the time he was done with me, my whole body had been flooded by sensation for so long that it simply… gave out. I wasn’t a woman given to fainting spells, but I’d long lost count of the number of orgasms he’d wrung from my body, so when things went dark, it was a sweet sort of torture. 

I woke with sore thighs coated by my own arousal, sticky now as it cooled and dried against my skin. 

I didn’t care. My pussy was tender, and as I sat up, I could feel the same soreness that had taken up residence in my thighs radiating up over my abdomen. 

“Bloody hell,” I breathed. It was astonishing the state Regulus had managed to leave me in, given the fact he had— once again— stayed completely clothed. He was a goddamned prodigy. A sex demon… I wondered idly whether there was an incubus somewhere in his family tree and then dismissed the thought. 

Twisting on what I realized now was a bed until my feet had touched the floor, I surveyed the room I’d been deposited in. It was the master suite, and though the old furnishings had been banished, the whole place cleaned, and a vase with fresh flowers set on the nightstand nearest the window… It still felt… Important. 

“You’re awake.” 

I shrieked at the sound of his voice— I’d thought myself alone— and then I tugged the sheet up over my body, shielding myself from his view. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but there was something about being  _ here _ that made me feel… Well, it just made me feel.

“How did I— Did you carry me up here?” 

He smirked where he sat in an armchair near the window, one ankle over the opposite knee and his shirtsleeves still rolled up past the elbows. 

“It was hardly an accomplishment. You weigh as much as a sparrow.”

I rolled my eyes. I weighed  _ considerably _ more than a sparrow. My hips were wide and my breasts generous, and the thighs he’d spent time worshipping between were hardly slender. 

“Did we—” I looked back at the bed, noting the other side fastidiously tidy, without even the indentation of a head on the pillow. “We didn’t have sex, did we?” 

Regulus looked amused. 

“You mean did I let you have the cock you spent hours begging for?” The sun filtering in through the window beside him was low on the horizon, and it threw his features into delicious, angled relief. 

I cleared my throat. “Well, did you?”

“No, kitten. I gave you my terms.” 

Impulsively, I reached for the diamond at my chest, stopping only when the heavy weight of it was settled in my palm. 

Regulus stood, turning his back on me and standing in front of the window, looking out at the view. 

“You could stay, if you like,” he said, his face hidden. 

I let myself imagine it just for a moment. If I stayed, would he come to the bed and make love to me? Would it  _ be _ love making when he finally took me? Or would it be fucking— hard, and fast and unearthly?

“I can’t,” I heard myself say. “I have… work.” I wondered briefly what I would submit in my report to Grog-Kell this time. I could hardly give him a play by play of the way I’d spent my day… It was a very good thing I’d managed to get through the study that morning.

“I’ll have Kreacher see you out then,” said Regulus, and though I willed him to turn and  _ look _ at me, he stayed there, peering out of the window toward the setting sun, his body bathed in golden light.

“Alright,” I said, swallowing once. 

It wasn’t until I was dressed and stepping into the Floo that I realized the Black Diamond was still clenched tightly in my fist.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to get back to Monday posts! Hope you all loved this chapter as much as I loved writing it. ;) I look forward to your comments! --LM


	8. It wasn't brunch with the Fairy Queen.

“Do you think Draco and Neville are fucking?”

“ _What_?” 

Pansy’s question took me by surprise, and as my fork stilled above the fish on my plate, I stared at her, agape. 

“Malfoy and Longbottom,” said Pansy. “Sirius thinks they might be shagging.” 

“What the hell would _he_ know about it?” 

Pansy rolled her eyes, taking a sip of her wine and leaning back in her seat. She looked every inch the socialite in close fitting robes and sparkling jewels. “He’s been with men before, darling. He knows the signs.” 

“Merlin,” I said, spearing my fish and trying to think of how to respond.

“It’s perfectly natural,” Pansy continued without missing a beat. “Especially for someone as attractive as he is. And it’s not like you and I have never—” 

“That was _different_ ,” I said, interrupting her. “We didn’t fuck.” 

Pansy raised one delicate brow. 

“My hands were down your knickers, Granger. Whatever you want to call it, it wasn’t brunch with the Fairy Queen.”

“It was a one off,” I clarified. 

“As I remember it, we _both_ got off.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, you’re very talented,” I appeased, and Pansy waved a hand in the air as if to say ‘go on,’ a glint in her eye. “ _But_ , a drunken encounter still doesn’t make either of us experts. Just because Mr Black has been with a man before—”

“Men,” Pansy corrected, “Plural.” 

“Fine. Just because he’s bi doesn’t mean he’s got some sort of point me charm directing him to other similarly attracted individuals.” 

Pansy smirked. “He did a good job finding me out,” she said. “Caught me eyeing some pretty little thing at a muggle pub and invited her to spend the night with us.” 

“Christ. I don’t need the details.” 

“Suit yourself,” Pansy said, shrugging. “But my point is, he’s more experienced than either of us. If he thinks the boys are shagging I’m inclined to agree.” 

I lifted my fork to my mouth and took a bite, giving myself time to think before dismissing the question altogether. It didn’t matter if Draco and Neville were together. Draco hadn’t been mine for ages, and both men were unattached and perfectly capable of picking out their own bed partners. Just like Pansy… Just like me.

“Speaking of shagging…” I let my voice trail off at the words and waited for Pansy to look up at me, which she did with a gleam in her eye, her wine glass half lifted to her lips.

“There it is,” she said, sipping from her glass again and then setting it aside as she straightened her spine and leaned forward eagerly. “Out with it then.” 

I swallowed, suddenly nervous. “It’s Regulus,” I said.

Pansy cackled, drumming on the edge of the table in her excitement and drawing the eyes of several old witches at a nearby table. “Of course it is. Does he fuck as well as his older brother? I’m dying to know.” 

One of the witches who had turned to look at us gasped and when Pansy paused to glare up at her, her eyes widened comically and she made a show of turning back round. 

“I’m afraid I can’t make that comparison,” I said, keeping my voice purposely low. 

Pansy snorted. “Let me have a go then, for science.”

Briefly, I imagined it— Pansy in Regulus’s arms. Pansy splayed across his desk with his face between her thighs. _Pansy_ bent over an armchair with her arse on display, Regulus behind her with a belt dangling from his fingertips. 

The last image, a fantasy of mine apparently, disconcerted me almost as much as imagining Pansy in my place. I reached up, unthinking, and pressed my hand against the thin scarf I wore. The hard press of the diamond through the silk was comforting beneath my palm, though I wouldn’t think about why.

After an uncomfortable few moments of silence, I looked back to Pansy, who was smirking at me. “You don’t even know what science is,” I said, trying to sound unaffected. 

“Some muggle magic,” she said, shrugging. “I take it from that aggressive look on your face I’m to keep my knickers _on_ when I’m around Lord Black, then?” 

“I—” didn’t want to answer. “You’re welcome to do as you please. Just as he is.” 

“Hippogriff Shit.” 

The old woman looked back at us with bulging eyes and began whispering furiously to her friends as Pansy continued. 

“You’re fucking him, and you’re holding out on me. _Spill_.” 

“I’m not—” I lowered my voice, looking about and leaning in toward Pansy. “We still haven’t— done everything.” 

“Merlin’s great big cock. Is he still just licking your—”  


“Oh my _God_ , Pansy!” 

“Gods,” she corrected automatically, and then continued. “And I’m sorry, but a man who likes eating pussy _that_ much is rare as a bloody Phoenix. I’m allowed to be impressed.” 

I covered my face with my hands as the old witches’ whispers grew fevered. 

“That’s not _all_ he does,” I said, voice low. “And honestly _what_ he does is beside the point.” 

When I glanced back up, Pansy looked amused. “Is it?”

“Yes,” I said, nodding. “No matter what he’s doing, I end up… well, it’s very nice for me indeed.” 

“And him? Does it turn out very nice for him as well?” 

My cheeks burned and I shook my head. 

“Merlin,” Pansy breathed. “What do you think he’s waiting for?”

_You can have my cock when you promise to keep_ **_this_ **. 

His words from the day before echoed in my mind. I bit my lip. 

“C—commitment, I think.” 

“Oh my fucking Gods,” said Pansy. 

There was another gasp from the gallery, and the furious looking old witch stood, her flouncy, beribboned robes out of style but expensively cut. 

“Don’t even think about it, you old crone,” said Pansy, rounding on the witch and pointing a single finger in her direction. “Say a single word to me and I’ll hex your hair off.”

The older woman’s eyes widened and the friends at her back all cried out. Still, the threat was enough to keep the group at bay, and they all huffed, standing in unison and then turning their backs to rush out of the restaurant, leaving a small stack of galleons on the table behind them. 

And then, as if nothing at all had transpired, Pansy turned back to me. 

“So this is about the diamond. It _was_ a proposal?”

“Um. Yes. I think so.” 

“You lucky cunt.” 

“ _Lucky_? Pansy, I barely know him! He could be mad for all I—”

Pansy made a dismissive sound. 

“The Blacks are all mad, darling. Barmy as Belfry Bats. But they’re also incredibly shrewd, loyal to a damned fault, and rich as as fucking Croesus. And they _always_ get what they want.”

“So I’ve been told,” I said, stabbing the remains of my fish without any intention of taking another bite. I just wanted to mangle something. “But I’m not a prize. I don’t want his money or his title or anything like that.” 

“I’ll take them,” Pansy offered helpfully. I scowled at her in reply and she laughed. “Merlin, Hermione, you can’t have it both ways. You either want him, or you don’t.”

“I want—” I paused. What _did_ I want? I hadn’t been lying when I’d said his money wasn’t a temptation— being Curse Breaker on his account meant that I was intimately familiar with just how vast his fortune was, and even the unthinkable sum hadn’t made me blink— but there were other things that appealed to me. The way he touched me, looked at me, _talked_ to me. Sometimes when I was with him, it felt as if I was the center of his universe. Which was mad. 

“His cock?” Pansy supplied when I’d been silent for too long. 

“No,” I said, looking back up at her. “I mean, _yes_ , but that’s not all. I just— I wish I knew why he’d chosen _me_ . Why _this_ proposal. Why now? Why not ask me out like a normal person and—” 

“The Blacks aren’t normal,” said Pansy. “They never do things by half measures. When Harry’s first parents died, Sirius could have taken him on as a ward. He was his Godfather, and had the right. But what did he do?”

“He— well, he adopted him.” 

“Exactly. He gave him his name, gave him the family magic, and dared any pureblood toff to blink twice at the son of a muggleborn as the heir to an ancient and noble house. And that’s not even mentioning the whole-hearted, whole bodied way he fucks when he’s got me tied to—”

“Fucking hell, Pans.” 

“I’m only saying, the Blacks _know_ what they want. They don’t sit about dithering for ages and trying to talk themselves out of a thing. And is there really anything so wrong with that?” 

For a moment, I thought of the way Regulus looked at me, of the earnest answer he’d given when I’d asked him why he hadn’t just stayed in Madrid. 

_You’re not in Spain_.

What was it about me that had drawn him in to such a degree? What was it about _him_ that kept me going back? Because though I was technically working for him… I knew in my bones that forcing me into something had never even crossed the man’s mind. Inviting me… yes. Tricking me? Perhaps. But force? I wasn’t sure the word was in his vocabulary. He’d stopped when I told him to, that day in his bedroom, and though he’d given chase when I’d run… It was almost as if he’d been compelled to follow. I didn’t understand it, but I didn’t hate it either. After all, I’d enjoyed the chase… If I were being honest with myself, I might even admit that I’d invited it. 

No— there was nothing wrong in knowing what you wanted… But part of me wondered why a man like Regulus Black would have the slightest interest in a girl like me. I was pretty enough, and I was intelligent… but I was hardly the sort of woman wizards like him normally married. I was no Narcissa Malfoy. No Pansy Parkinson. No Daphne Greengrass. I was just… Hermione Granger. Yes, I had been raised with immense privilege… but it had been _Muggle_ privilege, and _Muggle_ society. 

“Keep frowning like that and you’ll get wrinkles,” said Pansy, drawing me from my thoughts. 

“I just— I don’t understand it.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You’re hot as fuck, smart as a bloody whip, and cultured. What’s not to like?”

“Liking and bloody marrying are two vastly different things.” 

This time, Pansy scoffed. “Not for the Sacred Twenty-Eight,” she said. “Liking is sometimes the best we have to look forward to in a marriage. Sirius was betrothed to his cousin before the war, I’m fairly certain, and he hated that bitch.” 

“Who, Narcissa?” 

“Bellatrix.” 

“A Black?” I asked.

“Lestrange eventually.” 

“I don’t think I’ve heard of her.” 

Pansy lifted her wine glass, leaning back in her seat again. “She was a crazy bitch, by all accounts. The Dark Lord’s whore, I think.”

“That’s unkind,” I said.

“Just stating facts. Now stop trying to change the subject. What exactly would be so bad about letting Regulus buy you pretty things and make you his Lady? I thought you were a pragmatist.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m devoid of feeling,” I said. 

Pansy snorted indelicately. 

“From what you’ve said, there’s more than a little _feeling_ going on.”

“Merlin. Can we talk about something else?” I stabbed my fish again. It was growing cold and flaking into pieces. 

“In a moment. First, answer me this. Can you honestly tell me you can’t even _picture_ yourself in a relationship with the man?” 

I sighed, looking up at the ceiling as a flood of images and thoughts assaulted me. 

Regulus, his shirtsleeves rolled up as he grinned at me. Regulus, taking tea as he read a book. _Regulus_ , disappearing between my thighs with a smirk. There was nothing off putting at all about the images, and there was a strange little ache in my chest as I pushed them away. 

“I never said that,” I admitted, not daring to meet Pansy’s eyes. “I just—” 

“You don’t like being bossed about,” interrupted Pansy. “You never have. But maybe get over yourself long enough to get to know the bloke? Or at least long enough to get to know his dick so we can trade notes. I swear, Sirius has the thickest cock I’ve ever—” 

“Dessert, ladies?” Their server was a girl just a little younger than we were, and her eyes were wide as she stared down at the table, studiously avoiding eye contact with either of us 

Pansy waved her off with a grin. “Not yet, love. Check back in a mo?”

I watched the girl scurry off. 

“You’re incorrigible,” I said to Pansy. “You’ve got to learn to watch your mouth in public.”

“If you’re interested in watching my mouth I can always see if Sirius is up for a third again.” 

“ _Pansy_!” 

“Oh! Speaking of Sirius, I’ve a favor to ask.” 

“If it’s got to do with your mouth, the answer is no.” 

Pansy stuck her tongue out at me. 

“No, you great prude. It’s not about sex at all.” She smoothed a hand over her hair, tucking it behind her ear on one side, a sure tell that she was nervous about something.

“That’s a shock,” I said, but I waited for her to go on. 

“It’s about your beau, actually.” 

“I haven’t got a—” 

“Interrupting is rude, Granger.” 

I rolled my eyes but waved for her to continue. 

“Ever since Harry told Sirius that Regulus is back in town he’s been… Well, not exactly _sad_ , more… Aggressively happy.” 

I felt my brows dip into a deep ‘V’. 

“And that’s… a problem?” 

“ _Yes_ , it’s a problem,” said Pansy, sounding exasperated. “It’s like a cheering charm gone wrong, and it’s _creepy_.” 

“So you want… what, exactly?” 

Pansy made an impatient noise. 

“Talk to the other one,” she said, “Use that apparently delicious pussy of yours to convince him to come to dinner next weekend at Grimmauld Place.”

I balked. 

“Excuse me?” 

My voice had gone squeaky.

“ _Dinner_ ,” said Pansy, who sounded aggressively happy now herself. She was grinning, but there was something feral about the expression, like she was just as liable to pat my shoulder as she was to rip out my jugular with her long, talon sharp fingernails. “Saturday. Bring Regulus.” 

“Pansy, I don’t think it’s a good—” 

“To _hell_ with what you think,” said Pansy, “I haven’t been properly shagged since _you_ ,” here, she jabbed her finger toward me and I leaned away, “told Harry about his uncle being back in town. Sirius has gone all—” she stuttered, as if she were trying to look for the proper word. “Wimpy!”

“Wimpy?” I echoed. 

“Yes, exactly. I can’t get him near the toy box at all and he just— He’s looking at me like I’m fragile or something _equally_ as stupid. He needs to have it out with his brother before I have to get switchy and teach him how to treat a lady when she asks to be manhandled.” 

“Is now a good time for dessert?” The waiflike little waitress was back and Pansy, her teeth bared, turned up to look at her. 

“One of everything,” she said, not unclenching her jaw as she spoke. 

“Please,” I added weakly. 

The girl hurried away, and Pansy looked back to me, adjusting her robes and cracking her knuckles.

“Dinner,” she said again. “Saturday. Understood?”

“Now who’s bossy?” I muttered under my breath. 

“Excuse me?!”

I forced a bright smile which grew a little softer at the frazzled expression on Pansy’s face. Something— whatever was going on with Mr Black, I assumed— was bothering her, and for as much of a pain in my arse as she could be… She was still my best friend.

“I said I’ll try,” I told her, and when she let out a relieved little sigh, I knew I’d made the right choice. 

*****

Unfortunately for me, I may have been a good friend, but I was also a damned coward. On Monday morning, I tried to force myself back to Blackgate Hall, but the sight of the diamond still sitting comfortably against my chest was enough to dissuade me. I wasn’t ready to take it off— somehow, the thought of being separated from it seemed too final, like a rejection I’d not be able to take back— but I also wasn’t ready for him to see that I was still wearing it. So I did the easy thing, and went to work at Gringotts, choosing one of his many vaults to begin in and pretending I wasn’t avoiding him. 

And then I did the same thing on Tuesday. 

And Wednesday. 

Work in the vaults was easy. There were a few complicated curses that had clearly been placed by someone outside of the House of Black, but all the rest melted for me just as the spells in the study had, as if they’ve been set to respond to me. I knew it was likely the diamond registering me as family, but the quick work still boosted my confidence, and by four o’clock, I was nearly through the second vault completely. 

“So, this is where you’ve been hiding.” 

His voice filled every nook and every cranny of the large vault, and my nipples went instantly taut as I froze where I stood, my wand raised over a large, solid gold grandfather clock. 

“Regulus,” I said, my voice higher than I would have liked. “I didn’t know you had business at the bank today.” I didn’t turn to look at him, but I could hear him advancing toward me, could practically feel the heat of his presence radiating against my skin the closer he came. 

“I didn’t,” he said, his footsteps stopping just behind me. “I came looking for you.” 

I turned abruptly, and he was so close that my shoulder brushed against his chest in the process and I could smell the fresh, green scent of him alongside the cloves and tobacco that he seemed to favor. 

“I’ve been working here,” I said, stating the obvious. “I thought I may as well get the vaults out of the way, in case there was anything you wanted to transfer to Blackgate Hall.”

He smiled, taking a short step toward me which I matched by pressing my back to the grandfather clock. He paused at my retreat, the smile falling just slightly at the corners. I noticed a dimple in his left cheek. 

“You’re sure you’re not just avoiding me?” 

“I—well, I am avoiding you.”

“You are?” He frowned.

“Just a little.” 

Sighing, he took a step back, folding his hands behind his back and then tearing his gaze from me to glance around the vault. “Gods, these things are ancient.” His gaze paused on a burgundy settee nearby and then flicked back up to me. He looked somber still. 

“I apologize, if I did anything last time we met that—”

“No,” I said, interrupting him. “It’s not… You didn’t do anything wrong. I just… I needed some space.” 

“From me?” His brows dipped in what looked like concern, and his shoulders tensed. 

“Well, yes.” I felt almost guilty at the admission, and so I took a purposeful step away from the golden clock at my back and toward him, stowing my wand up in my hair as I did. “But it wasn’t anything you did. I enjoyed _those_ things.” Merlin, I’d enjoyed them. 

He smiled at that admission, and his body shifted toward mine. “I enjoyed those things as well,” he said, his voice lower now, huskier. “I enjoyed them _very_ much.” 

My mouth began to water at the memory and at the tone of his voice. I cleared my throat. 

“I saw Pansy over the weekend,” I said. 

“Pansy?” The confusion spread across his face at once, and I realized my mistake. 

“Parkinson. She’s— well, she’s a friend of mine, but she’s also seeing Mr Black.” 

“Sirius?” The line between his brows deepened, and I cleared my throat. 

“Yes. Harry’s dad.” 

The clarification seemed to amuse him. “My brother?” 

“Exactly. He wants you to come for dinner on Saturday.”

“Dinner,” he echoed. 

“Yes. On Saturday. At Grimmauld Place.” 

“And he told _you_ this.” 

I shook my head, feeling the need to explain. “Pansy told me. I’m not exactly friendly with Mr Black. That is to say, I’m not _unfriendly_ , but we aren’t _friends_ the way Pansy and I are. Or Harry and I, even.” 

“My nephew.” 

“Yes.” 

“The one you—” He cut himself off and I could see him smirking as he reached up to rub his jaw. 

“The one I dated,” I supplied. 

His eyes flashed silver and for a moment I thought I’d upset him with the reminder, but as his hand dropped from the lower half of his face and one of his brows quirked upward, I realized he was amused. 

“I thought I asked you not to mention that again,” he said.

And perhaps I was feeling sassy, but my response was only to shrug and smirk right back at him. 

He took a step toward me, and I watched as his eyes trailed from mine to my mouth, and then further down. His stare was heated, and I fancied I could feel it against my skin as my nipples tightened again and he inhaled sharply. 

“What’s this?” he asked, taking another quick step toward me, until he was so close he was all but pressed up against me. 

I took in a shallow breath, his scent overwhelming me and sending a warm, dizzy feeling spinning over me. 

“What’s what?” 

I felt his hand before I saw it move, his strong fingers tracing a scorching, indolent line from my neck down to the clasp of my robes, where a thin silver chain disappeared behind the fabric. 

“This,” he said, deftly undoing the clasp and dipping his finger just below the fabric of my blouse before drawing it back out again. The chain dangled over the digit, and on the end of it, the Black Diamond hung, glinting against the firelight in sconces along the walls. 

As he touched it, his scent overwhelmed me and I breathed deeply, enjoying the masculine notes and the wild, woodsy undertone. The smell of him was like a calming draught, and I relished it. 

“Bloody hell, kitten,” he groaned, pushing up against me fully this time. The wide expanse of him pressed me to the grandfather clock, and I could feel his chest rumbling against mine. It sent a shot of lust straight down my body to pool between my thighs, and I reached up without thinking, pressing the palm of my hand to his stubble roughened cheek. 

“Have you been wearing this since I saw you last?” he asked, his voice rough. 

“Yes,” I said, answering automatically, I don’t think I could have lied if I had wanted to. There was something about the way he was looking at me, about the way his eyes shone expectantly. 

“Does that mean you’ve accepted,” he asked, his voice still gruff and silken all at once. I could feel his heart pounding through both of our bodies and wondered if he could feel mine as well. 

If I were being honest, I hadn’t stopped to think about what continuing to wear the diamond would mean. I knew that it had come with a question—one I was ill prepared to answer—but there was something about it I just couldn’t seem to shake… Something about Regulus that I wanted to explore. 

“I— I can’t marry you,” I said, my whole body trembling as he pressed his cheek into my hand and his eyes fluttered shut. 

“Why not?” 

It was a fair question, and with the way his proximity had sent my mind reeling, I had to think about it before I answered. 

“I’m only twenty,” I said after a moment. “I’m not ready to…” He leaned in, his free cheek pressing to mine, the stubble scrapping my skin and sending a shiver down my body. “To settle down,” I finished.

He growled, but the sound wasn’t threatening, it was arousing as hell. 

“Then why wear this?” He tugged at the chain just a little, enough to bring me that much closer and to send a pulse of arousal straight to my sex. 

“I—” Fuck, I could barely think straight. “I want to know you better,” I heard myself say.

“And you need to be wearing this to do that?” His lips were tracing the line of my jaw now as he murmured, and I felt his tongue dart out to taste me. 

“I don’t… Fuck, Reg, I don’t know. I just… taking it off felt…” I trailed off, unsure how to explain myself, insecure about the impulse that had led me to keep the diamond around my neck, close to my heart. 

“Wrong?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said, and then gave a little, gasping sob as his mouth latched onto my neck, just below my jaw, and he sucked hard. 

“You can wear it as long as you like, baby girl,” he said at last, once he had withdrawn a little. “I like seeing it on you.” And then he tucked it back down my blouse, his fingers trailing back up the chain until they’d reached my chin. He tilted my face toward his then, and the next thing I felt was his mouth pressed against mine. 

His lips were hot, and tasted of tea and spice, and I savoured the sensation as he dragged my lower lip between them. His tongue traced against the plump flesh, and then his teeth nipped at it for a moment before he released me, breathing hard and pressing his forehead to mine. 

“I didn’t come here to seduce you,” he said, his voice thick with arousal. 

“Pity,” I teased, my hand that had been on his cheek now carding through his hair. 

“Dammit, Hermione. I’m trying to be a gentleman.” 

I pressed myself more fully against him, arching my back so that I could press my breasts to his chest. 

He groaned at the contact, and the sound sent a bolt of lust straight through me. I remembered in that instant all of the things he had made me feel, the way he’d made my toes curl and my stomach tense and my whole body explode with pleasure. And I wanted it. 

“I never asked you to be that,” I said. 

He growled. 

“Come to Grimmauld Place with me,” he demanded as I leaned into him once more, seeking his lips. But he danced just out of reach, peering down at me with burning silver eyes and an expression so intense I wanted to spread my thighs and let him put it between them. 

“I— I shouldn’t.” 

Another growl. 

“If you want me to go, you’ll be on my arm.” 

He leaned down, nipping at my throat as my head lolled back and I felt one of his large hands grip the back of my thigh. He pulled it up, until my leg was at his hip, and I felt him bend his knees and then press against me again. At the shift, his cock landed hard and heavy against my cunt, the solid length nestling between my cleft through our many layers of clothing unerringly.

“Fuck.” 

“I will,” he said against the pulse at the base of my neck. “If you’re a very good girl.” And then he rocked his hips against mine, and I could feel his thickness dragging deliciously over my clit as he moved. “If you come with me, I’ll let you taste this cock you’ve been wanting for the last month.” 

I moaned aloud. 

“Would you like that?”

“Yes,” I admitted, my cheeks burning with arousal. 

“So you’ll come to dinner?” 

Through the haze of desire, I allowed myself to feel the enormity of what he was asking. He wanted me with him when he saw his brother again for the first time in years… When he walked back into the house where he’d been raised by parents who had, by all accounts, loved their ideologies more than they’d ever loved him. It wasn’t a casual request, or something a man asked of a woman he wasn’t interested in for more than sex. And it scared me just a little. Still… there was something about him—about _us_ —that pulled at a string deep inside of me that had only strummed to life when he’d touched me for the first time.

“Alright.”

He rewarded me with another tilt of his hips, and this time I cried out at the large head of his arousal bumped against my clit and slid past it. 

“I think you’re wearing far too many clothes,” he breathed, his teeth scraping against my shoulder through my blouse as he reached down with one hand to push my robes aside and then drag the skirt I wore beneath it up past my hips. I was burning hot, and the cool air brushing between my thighs as he backed away just long enough to push my knickers to the side was a welcome relief, one that made me shiver delightfully. 

“You can’t imagine how often I’ve wanted to feel you here,” he said, his fingers stroking my cleft and drawing my arousal from top to bottom in a slow, deliberate line. He circled my clit when he reached it, giving just the right amount of pressure. “Not just with my fingers, or my tongue, but with my cock.” 

“Merlin, _please_ ,” I whined. I wanted it so bad, wanted to feel him hot and heavy against me, _filling_ me until I couldn’t think of anything but the delicious stretch and the pulsing length of him so deep inside I’d be able to feel it in my womb. 

“You want it too?” His hand left me and I heard the sound of a zip being undone and then felt his hand on my thigh clench down tight with bruising force that only served to arouse me further. 

“More than anything,” I admitted. 

“Shit, princess,” he swore, and he sounded almost pained. “You’ve no idea how much I need to feel this tight little quim on me.” His knees bent again and then I cried out. 

I could _feel_ him. His hand was fisted just below the crown of his shaft, leaving the head exposed as he dragged it over the seam where his fingers had already explored. 

“Oh _fuck_ , daddy, please.” 

His hips jerked at my words, the head of him delving between my lower lips as he hissed and then dragged it upward, thick and burning hot as it hit my clit and made me whimper. He didn’t move after that, just sat there where the tip of his cock pressed tight against the bundle of nerves he knew were my undoing. 

“You’ve no idea the things I want to do to you,” he rasped, and I felt him thrust against me, his cockhead slipping over slick flesh and sending a jolt so intense through me that I cried out. “Absolutely no idea how much I’d like to see this sweet pussy bathed in my come. How much I want you on your knees, opening up wide for me.” Another thrust, and my toes curled. “Gods, I can feel your pulse here in your little clit, just begging me to—” He thrust again and we both groaned at the sensation. “Fuck, to spill myself all over it. Would you like that baby girl? Would you like for me to come right here against you? Prove that your mine?” 

His words were filthy, and I knew that if any man but him had ever spoken them to me, I would have been appalled… But God, I _did_ want it. I could picture myself laying back for him, my whole body trembling as he spent himself over my sex, marking me as his, rubbing it into me… using it to ease the passage of his fingers inside of me.

“Yes,” I breathed at last. “Yes, please.” 

He thrust more quickly then, _harder_ as he rocked against me, and every single move he made sent pleasure in loping spirals from the point of contact, out through my entire body. Soon, he was thrusting hard enough that he couldn’t keep the head on my clit, couldn’t keep his shaft from driving up through my folds and dragging against it in a firm line that made me tremble. 

“Oh god, oh god, I’m going to— Reg, I’m going to—” 

“Come for me darling,” he said, his lips pressed to the base of my throat, his voice so deep and guttural the words vibrated through me at the same moment I came apart on his cock. 

“That’s right,” I heard him whispering. He’d moved his lips up to my ear now, and his shaft was still sliding against my pulsing sex. “So lovely when you come. Gods, you tremble so beautifully. It must be heaven inside of you… Should I feel for myself?” 

At the question, he used his fist to adjust himself, pushing lower until I could feel the wide head of his cock at the mouth of my pussy. 

“Yes,” I begged him, my hands scrambling for purchase on his shoulders, fingers digging into the fine cloth of his robes. 

“Beg pardon, Lord Black, but might I have a word?”

I shrieked at the sound of a familiar, rasping voice, and felt Regulus go stiff against me, freezing as a feral growl ripped its way up from his chest, through his throat, and out his mouth. He moved his body as the sound echoed in the vault, setting my feet down on the floor and adjusting my clothes to cover me, though he barely let more than an inch of space come between us. 

“Who the fuck—” he began. 

“Grog-Kell!” I said, my voice unnaturally high. Merlin’s great bloody balls. I was going to be sacked. 

“Don’t be alarmed,” said the Goblin. I couldn’t see his expression, as Regulus still had me pinned to the glittering grandfather clock, but I thought he sounded exasperated. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your breeding, but the bank’s just been informed that your Spanish holdings have transferred.”

“Our _breeding_?!” I latched the clasp of my robes before pushing against Regulus’s chest. He didn’t budge, just stood there with his eyes burning white hot and his teeth bared. 

“Just so,” said Grog-Kell. “I didn’t know wizards required solid gold for the act as well, but then, my area of expertise in training was property, not customs.” 

“We weren’t—” I began, but Regulus interrupted me with a sharp look behind him at the goblin who was my manager. 

“Is that all?” He asked, sounding furious and strained. 

“The Spaniards require signatures.” Grog-Kell sniffed. “Yours and Grangers.” 

“Mine?” I asked, my voice high as Regulus’s chest rumbled and his fist hit the clock behind me once before he leaned down and pressed his forehead to mine, dropping a quick kiss on my lips as he withdrew and then pushed himself away from me. He’d already stuffed himself back into his trousers, and I watched as his robes fell into place, obscuring the proof of his arousal that hadn’t abated in the least.

“Of course,” said Grog-Kell, who sounded slightly annoyed now. 

At his answer, Regulus turned. 

“Fine,” he said, “We’ll be up soon.” 

“Very well,” said the Goblin. “May the earth bless your union with many riches.” And then he turned and disappeared through the vault doors. 

“Fuck,” I said once he’d gone. “They’re going to sack me.” 

Regulus laughed at that, running a hand through his mussed hair to tidy it and then looking back at me, his eyes alight with amusement but still shot through with arousal. 

“I very much doubt that,” he said. “The goblins are savvy creatures… but there is nothing more important to them than their families. They respect such things above all else.” 

  
I wanted to argue, to tell him we _weren’t_ a family… but he was already heading toward the door, and Grog-Kell’s parting words still rang in my ears. Unlike the goblin, I _had_ studied customs. He’d given us the traditional blessing spoken to couples upon their binding, and I wasn’t sure whether the thought relieved me, or terrified me completely.


	9. Granger came through.

Harry’s house had always been a pleasure to visit, and from the first time I’d set foot into the townhome in the summer after my first year, I’d admired it. Number Twelve Grimmauld Place had been my first ever experience with a magical home. Beds that made themselves, a wizarding wireless playing in the background, and a sweet little house elf named Kimble that had taken a shine to me for some reason had made the visit a dream. I’d always imagined living in a place like it one day. 

As I stood on the doorstep, however, with Reglus grasping my hand tightly in his, I felt nerves settle in my stomach. It had been a full minute already, and not only were things beginning to feel awkward, I had the sinking feeling that the man at my side was considering backing out of the dinner all together. Not that I minded  _ overly _ much… but Pansy would, and then  _ I _ would never hear the end of it. 

“Should I knock?” My voice was soft as I asked the question, and I risked a glance up at the man beside me.

He was dressed in slacks and a crisp white shirt with braces and the same traditional robes he’d worn during his first visit to the bank. I had wondered at the formality when I had met him at Gringotts, but as I watched him now, his shoulders tense and his jaw set in determination, I thought I understood. In this costume, he wasn’t just Regulus Black, he was  _ Lord _ Black. I wondered why he thought he needed that status tonight. 

“I’ll be damned before I knock on the door to this house,” he grumbled after several more seconds of tense silence. Still, he didn’t move.

Rolling my eyes, I reached out and grabbed hold of the door knocker, giving it three solid thunks and then glancing back at Regulus. His eyes widened in surprise and he gave me a look that was half exasperation and half something else entirely. I thought it might be arousal, but before I had a chance to examine it, the door swung inward. 

“There you are, you—” Pansy’s words stopped dead at the sight of the man on the doorstep, her eyes widening and her mouth falling open for just a moment before a sly grin spread over her features. “Well fuck me,” she said. “Granger came through.” 

I somehow forgot how jarring Pansy’s give-no-fucks attitude could be to those who didn’t already know and love her, but as Regulus’s hand stiffened in mine, I was reminded. I gave his fingers a light squeeze as he responded. 

“Miss Parkinson, I presume?”

She nodded once, taking a drag from a cigarette she held in her left hand and puffing the smoke out onto my face. “You’re just as pretty as I remember you.”

His brows shot up somewhere near his hairline. 

“Pansy!” I hissed as the ebony haired woman stepped aside, leaving the entrance to the house open for us. 

“Come in,” she said, leaning over to put out her cigarette in an ashtray on the side table. “I’ll let the boys know you’ve come.” 

As we stepped inside, I smelled something delicious on the air, overwhelming the still lingering, acrid smoke. 

“Is that Kimble’s cooking I smell?” I asked as Pansy shut the door behind us. 

“It’s not mine,” she said. “And it’s sure as hell not Harry’s. Last time he tried to cook Daphne eggs the whole kitchen nearly burnt to a crisp. The Carrara marble was absolutely decimated.” She rounded on me. “Thanks for the heads up about their  _ engagement _ by the by. I was the last bloody person to know. Next thing I know you and Lord Black here will be spawning.” 

“Jesus Christ, Pans.” 

“What’s a jesus? Oh, never mind.” She turned away from us, gesturing vaguely toward the upper level of the house. “I’ll be right back. Don’t budge.”

Pansy disappeared up the stairs and I watched her go with a shake of my head. 

“ _ That’s _ the woman my brother is…”

“Sleeping with? Yeah.”

“Not what I pictured,” Regulus admitted, and I took a moment to study him as he examined the entrance of the house. He seemed surprised by what he saw there, as if much had changed since the last time he’d stood in that same place and it made me wonder what it had looked like when he and his brother had been younger. 

“What did you expect?” I asked, “Some precious pureblood rose?”

Regulus scoffed. 

“Hardly. More likely some muggle musician. I never thought he’d deign to court one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. He was always very adamant that they were all too inbred to make good wives.”

I laughed. “What makes you think Mr Black is looking for a wife?”

“Who’s looking for a wife now?” 

I looked up at the sound of Harry’s voice and smiled broadly at him. At my side, Regulus grew stiff. 

“Harry,” I breathed, releasing Regulus’s hand to embrace Harry for a moment and then stepping back. “Congratulations! Pansy’s just told me you’ve proposed.” 

Harry’s cheeks flushed and he grinned for a moment before his green eyes darted up toward the man at my back. 

“Blimey,” he said, “You’re—”

“A self-centered prick.” The declaration came from the top of the stairs, and I looked up to find Mr Black there, his long hair tangled and Pansy at his heels. 

“Sirius,” she said, her voice thick with warning, but the man didn’t seem interested in her caution. He just came down the stairs, eyes blazing, until he was standing toe to toe with Regulus, who had straightened himself up to his full height. 

He was taller than his older brother by several inches, with broader shoulders and a sharper jaw, but other than that, they looked mostly the same. They both had the same smoky grey eyes fringed with thick black lashes, the same full lips, and the same proud noses. 

They were also both scowling. 

“Some nerve you have, showing up out of the blue.” My eyes widened at Mr Black’s words and I looked at Pansy, who was avoiding my gaze.

“Erm, dad?” Harry tried to interject, but Mr Black held up a hand in his son’s direction, and he quieted. 

“Nearly two fucking decades you’ve been gone, you insensitive little shit.” 

“Hang on—” I tried, but Regulus shifted his body to block his brother from my view, practically growling as he spoke. 

“With a welcome like this, I can’t imagine what’s kept me away.” 

“Fuck you, you disloyal little—”

“ _ Disloyal _ ?! I have only ever done what—”

“Yes disloyal, you piss for brains, death eating—”

“Sirius!” Pansy cried.

“Dad!” 

“Fuck you!” Regulus was breathing hard now as I tried to pull at his arm and drag him away across the hall. He was having none of it though, and in the next moment he’d shaken me off—not roughly, but thoroughly. 

“Why you ungrateful—”

“ _ Ungrateful _ ?”

“Repeating after me won’t make your sins disappear!”

“I have  _ nothing _ to be ashamed of you pompous son of a—” 

“Dad—”

“Stay out of it, Harry. And  _ you _ —” Mr Black pointed back at his brother. “You have plenty to be ashamed of.” He began holding up fingers to count the list as he shouted, his voice rising and booming with each offense. “Abandoning your family, not writing for bloody years, being a great bloody Death Eater in the first fucking place—”

“As if I had a choice!” Regulus seethed, his hands clenched tightly into fists at his sides and his whole body practically trembling with a rage so apparent I could feel it from where I stood. “You left me first, you Bastard!” 

Sirius drew his wand and Pansy reached under his arm, snatching it away and then hopping halfway up the stairs with it. 

“No hexing,” she said. “It’s bad form in family matters.” 

With a furrowed brow and a murderous expression, Sirius turned back to Regulus. “As if they left me with any choice. You  _ know _ the shit they—” 

“Of course I know, you cretinous—” Regulus was breathing hard and I looked between him and Harry’s father as they argued, wide eyed and bewildered .

“Oh, fuck you arsehole—”

“I swear to the gods if you speak to me that way again I’ll—”

“Cry to mum? Sounds like you. Go on, the old bitch is right there in her portrait, just waiting for you to—”

“Sirius,  _ try _ to be civil!” Pansy called from her spot on the stairs. 

I reached for Regulus again. He was pulsing with anger, and I could practically feel it flowing from him like a river of outrage. When my hand settled on his arm, he stilled, glancing down at me with flaring nostrils and eyes that flashed silver. 

“I’ll speak however I’d like to my lily livered little—”

_ Thunk _ .

The sound of Regulus’s fist landing on his brother’s cheek was deafening, and accompanied by a muffled shriek I realised had come from Harry. 

“Dad!” Harry looked as if he was about to rush forward when Mr Black turned his face back toward his brother, grinning with teeth tinged pink by blood, and launched himself forward. 

The two men collided in the middle of the room, and I half expected a blood bath. They were both so large and so  _ violent _ looking, and had both proven themselves to be incredibly dangerous in their own ways. So when Sirius wrapped an arm around Regulus’s neck and forced him to bend at the waist, pulling his head in close and thumping his skull soundly… my jaw dropped open in shock at the display. 

“Hit me, will you?” Sirius moved in a circle with his brother still in a headlock.

Regulus snarled, and I watched, horrorstruck, as he elbowed Sirius between the legs. The impact caused the man to lose his grip, and soon Regulus had him by the hair, tugging hard as Sirius shrieked and then swung a hand upward, which caught Regulus on the cheek, open palmed. 

“I’m not a boy anymore, arsehole,” Regulus shouted, and Sirius slapped him again. 

“You’re a fucking bitch is what you are.” Sirius panted as Regulus lost his grip on his hair and then shoved his younger brother hard. Regulus struck the portrait of Walburga, his shoulder blades covering the woman’s wide eyed face completely as Sirius advanced. “You never fucking wrote!” 

“I had a lot going on!” 

I looked up at Pansy, who was sitting on a step now, watching the men fight with an eager,  _ amused _ expression as her eyes darted back and forth between the brothers. 

“Do something!” I shouted at her. 

She only shrugged. 

“Watching  _ is _ something, darling.”

Another  _ smack _ rang through the hall and I could see that Regulus had been slapped again, only this time, he growled, and returned the favor. Sirius hissed at the blow and then they were at eachother again. Limbs flailed and hands waved about seemingly at random as they both shrieked and attempted to shield their faces while they fought. 

“For Merlin’s sake.” I drew my own wand and glanced in Harry’s direction to see if he would be any help. Unfortunately, he was far too busy staring in fascinated horror to even notice me, so I took a deep breath and turned back to the brothers Black. 

“ _ Petrificus Totalus _ ,” I said, the words firm and clear. Neither man heard me, so absorbed were they in their own affairs, but that didn’t matter. The  _ magic _ heard, and it responded by freezing them where they were… shielding their faces… in a slap fight the likes of which I hadn’t seen since third year at Hogwarts, when Lavender Brown had groped Draco Malfoy and Milicent Bullstrode had taken offense.

“Boo,” Pansy jeered from the steps, cupping her hands over her mouth like a megaphone and looking entirely too disappointed. “It was just getting good.” 

I ignored her, focusing on the two men instead as Harry moved to stand beside me.

As I surveyed the scene, I tried to think of something to say… some way to drive home to the pair of men fighting like teenaged girls just how  _ absurdly  _ they had been acting… but I came up blank. 

Sighing, I lowered my wand. 

“I need a drink,” I said, looking up the stairs at Pansy, who was making her way back down now. 

“He keeps the good stuff in the kitchen,” she said, and when she reached the floor, she leaned in to give the still petrified Sirius a peck on the cheek. “Cool off, love,” she said to him, and then she looped her arm through mine, dragging me toward the landing. 

“Hey! What am I supposed to do with these two?” Harry called after us as we reached the stairs which led down to the basement kitchen. 

I didn’t bother to look back over my shoulder, but Pansy did with a smirk. 

“Leave them for now,” she said. “We’ll get them for dinner. Maybe by then they’ll have remembered they’re family.” 

“Hermione—” Harry tried. 

“If you end that spell I’ll hex your bollocks off, Harry,” I said, and then I let Pansy lead me downstairs for a stiff drink. 

*****

We hadn’t left them petrified for long, but by the time we returned Harry had been practically in tears as he’d anxiously paced back and forth in front of the two men. Still, he was properly afraid of Pansy and I for good reason, so he had done as we’d asked and left them untouched. 

Releasing them from the full body binds had gone smoothly only because we’d confiscated Regulus’ wand and hidden it along with Sirius’ before doing so, and even then, it had been a near thing. The  _ looks _ they had given us—Sirius to Pansy and Regulus to me—had been nearly identical. They’d been wild, vengeful, and  _ hungry _ . 

Fortunately for us, Kimble had chosen that moment to pop in and tell us dinner was served, and Harry had taken over the conversation, leading us all into the dining room and making sure we found our seats. Sirius (who I didn’t think I’d ever be able to call anything so respectful as ‘Mr Black’ again after what I had witnessed) and Regulus sat at opposite ends of the table while Harry and Pansy took one side, and I sat at the other. The room was quiet as Kimble served, and it was only broken when Pansy spoke with an artificially cheery tone. 

“Thanks again for the show, boys,” she said. 

Beside her, Sirius’s expression darkened and his gaze narrowed, after which Pansy bit her lip, eyes glittering, and fell silent. 

“Soooo—” Harry sucked in a deep breath. “I didn’t know all  _ this _ was happening tonight.” 

“All what?” I asked. 

“Family reunion,” said Sirius. “I thought you’d at least owl first.” 

I frowned and could nearly feel Regulus go completely still beside me. 

“We were invited,” I said, glaring at Pansy now. “ _ Someone _ made it sound like the invitation was yours.” 

Sirius glanced at Pansy again and she pretended not to notice. 

“We can go,” offered Regulus, his tone and his face impassive. The lack of expression made my heart ache. This was his brother. His  _ family _ . 

“Don’t be a prat,” snapped Sirius. “You’ve only just arrived and you’re already threatening to leave?”

“I’m not threatening—”

“Shut up and eat, Reggie.” 

One of Regulus’s cheeks twitched and he glanced at me and then back down at his plate before picking up a fork and beginning. 

“I’m Harry, by the way.” He leaned over his plate and peered at Regulus. “I know you know, but I feel like we haven’t properly met.” 

Regulus cleared his throat. “Hello again.” 

Harry smiled brightly. “What do I— I mean, do I call you Uncle Regulus or—” 

“You can call him _Lord_ _Black_ ,” said Sirius, loftily. “That’s the job he’s taken most seriously in this family.” 

“Gods, you sound bitter,” Pansy chided while Sirius stabbed a piece of beef on his plate. “Thank Merlin I’m an only child.” 

“Call me whatever you like,” said Regulus, who then looked to me with a pleading expression. I didn’t know what to say, so I avoided his gaze, focusing instead on unwinding the light scarf I’d worn in because I suddenly felt far too warm. 

“Yes, Harry, don’t be awkward about it,” Pansy trilled. “You’ve both plundered the same mines, but you’re still family.” 

“Fucking hell,” I muttered under my breath as Harry said―. 

“Gross.”

And Regulus? He just growled, which made Sirius look up from his plate with narrowed eyes. Those smoky grey irises swept the room, finally landing on me, where they settled and widened. 

“You properly engaged then?”

“What?!” My voice squeaked as Sirius gestured toward my neck. 

I looked down.  _ Fuck _ . I’d forgotten the necklace, hanging there on full display now that my scarf was draped over the back of my chair. 

“Yes,” said Regulus at once, and I nearly choked on my own saliva.    
  


“Excuse me!?” I’m fairly certain my voice rose at least two octaves. 

“Congratulations,” said Pansy, sounding amused. 

“Blimey,” said Harry. 

“Hang on—” I tried to interject, but Sirius was already speaking again. 

“Won’t that be a little awkward, knowing your nephew was there first?”

“I beg your—”

“No,” said Regulus gruffly, “Not if you lot would stop reminding me of it every few fucking seconds.” 

“Where’s the fun in that?” Pansy grinned, eyes sparkling.

“Would you stop—” I tried again. 

“We only dated for a few months,” interrupted Harry. “And we were both virgins when we got together so it’s not like—” 

“Oh my  _ God _ .” I buried my face in my hands, elbows thudding onto the tabletop as my face burned. 

“I don’t need the details,” said Regulus. 

“What, ickle Reggie doesn’t need pointers? That’s a laugh.”

“Shut your mouth, Sirius, or I swear on Circe’s sweet succulent—”

“Hermione certainly seemed plenty pleased in Spain,” Pansy interrupted. 

“I didn’t see her in Spain,” said Harry, “But she was always pleased after we—”

“ _ Silencio _ !” 

My wand vibrated between my finger tips for a moment after the spell left it, and I breathed hard with my gaze locked on Harry, whose eyes were twinkling. 

“That is quite enough of  _ that _ ,” I said, my heart racing in my chest as I felt Regulus’s gaze return to me and felt the weight of his regard on my face. It was hot as his touch, but somehow, it soothed me. I lowered my wand. 

“A gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, son.” Sirius took his wand from Pansy’s outstretched hand and cancelled the silencing charm. 

“Where’d you learn that?” asked Regulus, “From Lupin?”

Sirius’s eyes flashed but he nodded. 

“Yes. Remus taught me a great deal. He was around to do that, you see.” 

“Fuck you,” said Regulus mildly. 

“About this engagement…” Pansy tried, eyeing Hermione and the diamond she wore. 

“We aren’t engaged!” I knew I sounded distressed, but I didn’t mind. This had gone on for long enough. 

And then Regulus looked at me, his gaze sharp as claws. His eyes shifted from grey to silver in an instant and he leaned toward me across the corner of the table. 

“We’re not,” I said again, forcing myself to look away from him and across the table at Harry as I spoke. As I did, I felt Regulus’s hand close over the top of my knee, his palm hot against the bare skin just beneath the hem of my skirt. I flushed, my skin burning warm over my face and neck. 

“We are.” Regulus’s words were firm and uttered in that gruff, hypnotically captivating voice he used during our more intimate encounters. It sounded like the words were just for me. 

“I never— I never accepted. And you never asked properly anyway.” 

At the other end of the table, Sirius laughed, a hoarse, barking sound that was enough to draw my attention away from Regulus. “Why use words when you can use money, that’s Reggie’s philosophy.”

“Stay out of this.” Regulus looked sharply in his brother’s direction, his hand still on my knee as his thumb traced the hem above it. He looked back at me. “And you can deny all you like, but—”

“I don’t need your permission,” I interrupted. “I haven’t said I’ll—”

“Dammit, Hermione!” He bared his teeth, and I half expected his grip on my leg to tighten, but instead, he just slipped his thumb beneath the fabric of my skirt, stroking the skin just above my knee possessively as he shut his eyes and inhaled. When he was done, his eyes opened again and zeroed in on me, bright silver sickles around wide pupils that narrowed only slightly in the light. 

“Well I’ll be damned.” 

I tore my gaze from Regulus in time to see Sirius shove his chair back and push himself up onto his feet. 

Regulus’s gaze snapped to his brother, his hand leaving my leg as if he’d been stung. He furrowed his brow and looked down at his plate. 

“Eighteen years, you arsehole. Eighteen fucking years you left me here.” Sirius sounded incensed and Regulus grimaced before chancing a glance at his brother. 

“It was necessary,” he said through gritted teeth. “You wouldn’t have—”

Sirius’s eyes narrowed in fury, his hands on his hips as he began to pace. “Who better, you insane little—”

Regulus stood now too, and my eyes widened as he slammed his palm onto the table top. The plates on the surface all rattled and Pansy’s glass of elf made wine sloshed over, covering the white cloth with a dark red stain. “Enough! I won’t discuss this.” 

“The hell you won’t,” said Sirius. 

“Dad, maybe we—” Harry tried, but he couldn’t get the words completely out before he was cut off.

“You have no idea what it was like afterward, no possible clue.” They were both pacing now, and I watched as Regulus stalked back and forth, one hand in his hair as he used the other to gesture aggressively. 

“Darling, maybe you could take this upstairs so the rest of us can eat in peace?” Pansy looked completely unruffled as she reached for her glass, but I could tell by the way her fingers clutched the stem that she was struggling to control herself. 

Sirius paused just long enough to look down at her, and I watched as his gaze softened for just a moment before he looked back up at Regulus and it turned to flint. “Maybe you’re right,” he said. “The things I have to say to  _ Lord Black _ here, aren’t exactly dinner party conversation.” 

“Fuck you,” said Regulus, who was standing with his arms crossed and glaring across the table at Sirius. 

“I thought that was Hermione’s job,” said Harry, and then he gulped and subsequently yelped as Regulus’s gaze narrowed on him while I kicked his shin under the table. 

“Don’t maim him for stating the obvious,” chided Pansy. 

“Upstairs.  _ Now _ .” Sirius stood near the landing, looking stubborn and immovable as he stared Regulus down. For his part, Regulus didn’t move, just stared mutinously back until Sirius said, “Unless you’d like to have the conversation here… in front of the children.” 

“Oh, fuck you very much,” objected Pansy. 

“Fine,” Regulus grunted, and then he looked back down at me, his gaze softening just a little as it met mine. I felt a warm tremor run from my lips down to my navel and gave him a smile. 

“You’ll be okay?” he asked before he even made any move to leave. 

“She’ll be fine,” Sirius snapped. 

Still, Regulus waited, and there was a hollow little spot in my chest that was filled by his patient concern, his focus on me despite the tumult of the obviously charged reunion with his sibling. 

“I’m good,” I told him, and then I forced a smile. “You should probably go.” 

“Ten minutes,” he said, and Pansy snorted. 

“Unlikely.”

Regulus followed Sirius out of the room after that, and I watched them go with a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach, very aware of the pendant hanging above my heart in the absence of the man who had given it to me. 

“Tell me everything, you cunt.” Pansy set down her glass and leaned across the table toward me, her eyes sparkling with an eagerness that probably should have worried me but that had become so familiar over the years that I barely even noticed it. “And don’t leave a single detail out.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hi. I slipped and accidentally posted another chapter already. Y'all can thank LumosLyra for her beta work (and then go read and review The Good Girl Chronicles because I need another hit badly.)


	10. Where, back to your place?

I’d put up with Pansy’s meticulous questioning and Harry’s salacious comments until the clock had chimed nine and I’d realized we’d been waiting there for almost an hour. I’d gone in search of Regulus then, Pansy tailing me as Harry had excused himself for a date with Daphne. When we found the brothers, they were sitting on a low sofa in the drawing room. I don’t know what I had been expecting—perhaps for them to be at one another’s throats still—but what we saw was such a surprise that I had to cover my mouth with a hand to keep from making a sound.

With one arm around Regulus’s shoulders, Sirius sat whispering fiercely—words I couldn’t hear but which Regulus seemed to absorb with his whole body, words that made his shoulders quake as he sat doubled over, propped up only by his elbows on the tops of his knees. I couldn’t see his face, but I could tell as his shoulders shook that he was sobbing.

I watched as Sirius rubbed a small circle between Regulus’s shoulder blades and blinked away several tears of his own, and that small action made me feel every inch the intruder I knew I was at that moment. 

I backed away from the entrance until my back gently collided with the bannister and I couldn’t see them any longer, thanking God that Pansy followed quietly. 

“I should go,” I said, avoiding her gaze as I spoke quietly enough that I was sure the men wouldn’t be able to hear. 

“What? No, you can’t just leave me with—”

“It’s none of my business,” I said, though a part of me ached to run into the room and help soothe away whatever it was that had Regulus sobbing. “None of yours either. We should both go.” 

Pansy snorted, following me down the stairs. “Where, back to your place?” 

“Or yours,” I said. 

Pansy shook her head. “I let the flat go two months ago.”

“Two months? But you swore you weren’t going to move back in with your parents after—”

She gave me a withering look. “I haven’t gone back to the country,” she said. “I’m just… between places.” 

“Between…” We reached the bottom of the landing and I turned to face her, hands on my hips. “Pansy, are you living  _ here _ ?” Had she been holding out on me the whole time she’d been pressing for intimate details?  _ Hypocrite. _

Her bronzed cheeks coloured but she stuck out her chin stubbornly. 

“Certainly not. I just… have a lot of sex with the owner. It’s more convenient to be nearby. Something  _ you  _ would know if you ever pulled that stick out of your arse and—”

“I’m not having this conversation again,” I said, turning my back on her and heading for the door. 

“Granger, I swear to the gods, if you abandon me with the blubbering sods upstairs, I’ll have—”

I missed the end of her threat as the door swung shut behind me, and I apparated home in the next breath. 

*****

My flat was cold when I arrived, and I lit a fire in the grate first thing, setting my wand in its place on the table by the door before collapsing on the ornate couch. My mother had picked it out when she’d first furnished the place during my parents’ brief separation the year I’d turned sixteen. The spat hadn’t lasted, of course, and mother had moved back home a week after she’d purchased the place… but it had been a solid investment, so they’d kept it. 

Lucky me. It wasn’t exactly to my taste, but it was a place to live that cost me nothing and kept me near enough to both Gringotts and the more exciting parts of Muggle London that I could reach either in fifteen minutes or less. And it was a place to exist where my parents didn’t have to grapple with the difference between the life they’d imagined for me, and the one I was leading. 

I laid out on the sofa, pushing the throw pillows to the floor and scooping my hair up over my head to drape over the edge. I  _ was _ living the sort of life my parents would disapprove of, and I knew that. My mother had always been incredibly focused on propriety. My grandfather had been a Viscount before he died and the title had passed to a nephew of his, so I suppose I couldn’t blame my mother for the unholy attention she’d paid manners and etiquette during my childhood… still,  _ we _ hadn’t been peers, and living each day as if we were had been exhausting. Sometimes, I had wished that my parents were normal people—grocers or teachers… something boring. When I’d first started at Hogwarts, I’d told my friends they were  _ dentists _ . Pansy and Draco still sometimes took the piss for that one. They hadn’t understood my desire to transform my parents from socialite and successful business tycoon, to comfortable, working class Muggles. Sometimes, I couldn’t understand the desire either, but on evenings like this, where I had too much time to think and too much to think about… I remembered the yearning I’d felt to just be… average. 

I wondered if Regulus had ever wanted the same thing. Somehow though, he always looked so completely unruffled and comfortable with his own power that I thought he might have. He’d looked so uncomfortable when we had arrived at Grimmauld Place, and though the reunion between him and Sirius had been explosive… His hesitation on the front step had seemed like more than just anxiety over reuniting with his brother. 

_ Rap rap rap! _

The knocking at the door startled me so badly I fell off the couch, landing with a thud on the hardwood floor. 

“Hermione?” 

I froze at the sound of his voice, still lying on my side and rubbing my backside, which smarted a little from hitting the floor. 

“Regulus?” I didn’t think he’d be able to hear me, as low as my voice had been, but I watched as the handle of the door turned slowly before catching the lock. 

“Are you alright?” He sounded concerned. 

I scrambled off of the floor, whacking my elbow on the coffee table in the process and wincing as I jogged to the door. I was still wearing the skirt and blouse I’d worn to Grimmauld Place, but as I reached the door, I made a split second decision and kicked off the low heels I had on. They banged hard against the bottom of the side table where I kept my wand. 

“Hermione?” He sounded even more concerned now, and before I could even reach for the door handle, he said, “ _ Alohamora _ !”

The door swung open, and I had to side step to avoid it, pushing myself up onto the balls of my feet and losing balance when I jolted my hips out behind me. I’d have tumbled to the floor if it hadn’t been for a pair of large, warm hands catching me by the waist and holding fast. 

“Careful,” he said, his voice rumbling in my ear as he pulled me in, pressing my back to his chest. He was warm and solid through the layers of clothing between us, and the comforting smell of cloves and tobacco washed over me. 

He made sure I was steady on my feet again, and then he let go of me, closing the door behind him and locking it before he seemed to hesitate and then set his wand next to mine on the entrance table. I eyed them there for a moment, looking so opposite it was almost comical. Mine was just under eleven inches, the vinewood light and twisting compared to the dark, smooth length of Regulus’s. I wasn’t a wand expert by any means, but his looked like it was carved from ebony, perhaps fourteen inches long and marked by a thin stripe of glittering runes down the length of it. It was sleek and mysterious—powerful looking. It suited him, and I found myself wondering what it was about me that he thought suited him as well. 

“It’s dragon heartstring.” 

“Hmm?” My eyes flicked up to his, and my lips parted slightly at the odd declaration. 

“My wand. The core is dragon heartstring. If you were wondering.” 

I hadn’t been, but for some reason the knowledge soothed me. 

“Mine too,” I told him. 

He smiled, and then he turned to face the rest of the flat. “I’m sorry to have barged in like that,” he said, eyeing the pillows on the floor in front of the couch and then turned back to me. He was still in the same robes he’d worn to dinner, and there wasn’t a wrinkle anywhere in sight. He looked good too, not a trace of puffiness or red streaks from where he’d rubbed at his cheeks anywhere on his face. I usually looked a mess after crying… he just looked annoyingly flawless. It was enough to make me doubt what I’d seen at Grimmauld Place. 

“It’s alright,” I said. “I hadn’t settled in yet.” 

“I was worried,” he continued. “And I wanted to apologize. I didn’t mean to take so long with Sirius.” 

“It’s fine, really. I know you two probably had a lot to talk about.” 

Regulus shrugged, and even that was elegant. “It’s no excuse for having abandoned you.” 

“That’s a little dramatic,” I said, eyeing the sofa again and wondering whether to risk getting near it. We seemed to have a habit of almost fucking on any surface we let pull us into its orbit. 

“Did you want to sit?”

I chewed on my lip. “Alright, yes.” 

Regulus quirked a brow but followed as I made my way to the sofa, settling on one end and leaving the rest of the cushions for him. Of course, he ignored them, settling in as close as humanly possible to me so that our thighs were pressed together and he could take my hand in his, drawing it onto his lap and strokinge the back of it as he looked down rather than at my face. 

“Reg, why are you—” I hesitated. “Did you need something?” 

He shook his head and then tilted it so that he could meet my gaze. The stubble of his jaw had grown again, casting a shadow over the lower half of his face that somehow made his eyes brighter. “I was concerned,” he confessed. “When I heard you leave, I worried I’d done something to—” 

“You heard me?” 

His eyes flicked back down and then up again to meet mine. “Yes, Miss Parkinson started shrieking.”

I rolled my eyes. “Of course she did.” Sighing, I squeezed his hand briefly. “I only left because I thought you would want more time with Sirius. I felt…” I let my voice trail off. 

“How did you feel?”

“Like I was intruding,” I admitted. 

He frowned. “You weren’t. I wanted you there. You’re my— Well, you’re mine.” 

I almost argued, but there was something about the way he said the word that shot straight through me, resonating on a primal level I rarely acknowledged and flooding through me like veritaserum. 

“I’m sorry I left,” I said softly as his thumbs rubbed little circles against the back of my hand. “I just… Well, I went to find you and when I did, it seemed like a moment I shouldn’t interrupt.”

His body stiffened, his mouth in a thin line as his expression faded to something carefully blank. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“What? Regulus, no! I don’t mind that you—we  _ all _ have feelings. We all need someone to talk to. And you and Sirius… Well, you’re brothers. I don’t know much about your childhood together, but from the things Harry has said it wasn’t exactly pleasant. And then with the war and everything that happened there…” I trailed off again. “I can see why you needed to talk.” 

We sat there in silence after that, pressed to one another’s sides, my hand in his. He seemed to be thinking, mulling over my words perhaps, and I was inclined to leave him to it. He’d been distressed at Harry’s house—in pain—and I found that I  _ needed _ to give him the space to feel that. It was an urge I couldn’t ignore. 

At last, after a minute or more of silence, his eyes lifted to mine. His expression was not filled with the intensity I’d come to expect, nor the arrogance I’d seen at the bank… it wasn’t passion or arousal. It was tender. 

“I hate that house.” He sounded relieved to admit it. “Have since I was child. I don’t know how Sirius can stand living there.” 

“Harry says he gutted the place a long time ago.” 

Regulus shrugged. “I don’t care. He can knock down walls, paint over the hideous wallpaper and drape the place in Gryffindor colors and Muggle art… but I can still  _ feel _ the evil in it when I walk inside.” He shook his head. “Though perhaps that's just a reflection of what lives in me.” 

“Nonsense.” I pulled his hand onto  _ my _ lap now, massaging it impulsively, the way I always had Harry’s. “You’re not evil.” 

He watched me for a while, watched my fingers work over his hand before he leaned back against the couch, his legs sprawling forward until his head rested on the back and his eyes drifted shut. “Maybe not,” he said, “But I know what it looks like… feels like.” 

“That sounds awful,” I whispered. “I can’t imagine what it must have been like… with the Death Eaters.

He made a gruff noise and nodded. “It was better than being home,” he admitted softly. “Our parents were… fucking insane—abusive, and for a long time Sirius was the heir. They favored him.” 

One hand still on his, I pulled my knees up onto the sofa and turned to face him before reaching out to stroke his hair. It was silky and soft beneath my fingertips. 

“He was the apple of their bloody eyes until he left for Hogwarts and was sorted into the wrong house, and I was just… a nuisance.”

“How horrible,” I breathed, and a small inner part of me cried because I could feel what he was saying reflected in me. My parents loved me, I knew they did, but they loved themselves more. I knew what it was to be an afterthought.

Regulus let out a long breath and leaned into my hand as I continued to stroke my fingers through his locks. “It wasn’t all terrible. If I kept to myself they ignored me, and there was always Kreacher…” He frowned, his eyes still closed. “But then Sirius was put in Gryffindor, and I became their one hope. I didn’t have the luxury of being invisible after that.” 

His eyes flew open, and his hand clenched tightly around mine. “My mother was a violent woman,” he confessed, but then he closed his eyes again, settling the hand I’d been holding onto my thigh. “Not like you.” 

“I can be violent,” I said, trying to lighten the mood. “I hexed Draco the other day, you know.” 

He laughed, and his hand resting on my thigh squeezed. 

“You’re ferocious,” he agreed. “But my mother… she was prone to fits. Obsessive…” He trailed off, seemingly lost in thought. 

“But she’s gone now,” I reminded him. 

He smiled. “Thank the gods.” The smile faded. “But after everything… after the war… I’d changed too much.” 

“But didn’t you— I mean, Harry told me you were a hero. You changed sides and helped win the war!” 

His lips twisted into a thin smile but he didn’t look at me. “I’m not a hero,” he said. “I was lucky, and then I made the right decision after a slew of wrong ones.” 

I smiled and patted his head until he looked up at me with wide grey eyes. “I think that’s the actual definition of a hero,” I said. “Someone who keeps trying ‘till they get things right.” 

His lips twitched and he turned his body to face mine, sitting up enough that he could prop an arm on the back of the couch and his head in his hand. 

“Do you…” I couldn’t think of a tactful way to ask whether he wanted to go over what had happened during the war. “I can listen, if you want to tell me more.” 

This time, his lips did more than twitch, they smiled. 

“I’d love nothing more,” he said, “but perhaps another night.” 

I nodded, cupping his cheek, the stubble rough against the palm of my hand. “Anytime,” I promised as he leaned into the touch, his eyes shutting again as if he savoured it. 

“Suffice it to say, after the war I was… different. I wanted to forget who I’d been. The simplest way seemed to leave altogether.” 

“Simple for who?”

He exhaled, his brow furrowing as he rubbed his stubbled cheek against the palm of my hand. “For all of us, I thought.” 

“Do you still think so?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I’m beginning to question the conclusion.” 

“We all do stupid things when we’re hurting.” 

His eyes flew open, and I thought for a moment I’d managed to insult him, but he just stared into mine with those smoky eyes, his breaths even as he watched me. 

“You're perfect.” 

It took me by surprise and I dropped my hand at the compliment, blushing as I shifted on the seat until both of my feet were flat on the floor again. “I’m really not.” 

He reached out, wrapping one of my curls around his finger and watching it bounce when he released it. 

“For me you are,” he said, as if it were a known fact. 

“Now you’re just being silly,” I told him, standing and feeling the sudden need to put distance between us. Unfortunately, he seemed to have other ideas, because he stood and began to follow me as I paced away. 

“Nonsense,” he said, his voice more confident now, a little louder. “I think I know what I need at this point in my life.”

I kept walking, and he kept trailing after me. 

“You’re going senile,” I stated before pushing my way into the bedroom, the one place in the entire flat that felt more mine than my parents. 

I couldn’t see his expression as he followed me in, but he sounded as if he were smirking. “Shall I prove to you how very wrong you are, kitten?”

“I’d hate to see you fail.” 

The sound of his full throated laugh was like good coffee, freshly brewed and filling the air with something worth getting up for.

“What, don’t you believe two people can be meant for each other?” 

I snorted, placing my hands on my hips as I turned to face him at last. “You mean soul mates? No. It’s a lovely fantasy, but it hardly makes sense.” 

He wasn’t looking in my direction now, and I watched as he started rifling through the books and the various oddities I’d stacked on my dresser. “What doesn’t make sense? The idea of soul mates?”

“Two people meant to be together? Two halves of the same whole? It’s certainly romantic…” I confessed, “but it’s not reasonable.” 

“Why not?” he asked, lifting an old day planner up and flipping it open to a random page before he lifted a brow and closed it again. I smirked, wondering if that was the ‘Harry’ planner or the ‘Draco’ planner. I’d kept all seven from my years at Hogwarts, and had written  _ meticulous _ notes inside.

“There are billions of people in the world,” I said. “Each of them having a single soul mate seems awfully hard to manage.” 

Regulus picked up another planner, opened it, and smiled down at whatever writing he’d seen there before shutting it again. “Yes, but Muggles don’t have one.”

I raised a brow. “And Wizards do?” I asked, trying to prove my point.

“Of course,” he said. 

“Exactly, we can’t know—I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Magical beings have soul mates,” Regulus repeated with a shrug. “It’s been documented throughout history in the annals of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Surely you’ve come across the topic? It had to do with the resonance of magicks, I think, but I never made a proper study of it.” 

“I’m sorry, are you…Are you telling me there are actual, documented cases of soul mates that exist?” The idea stretched belief and I found myself suddenly desperate to dig into the literature to try and disprove the theory. 

He nodded and crossed his arms, leaning back against my dresser as he watched me, apparently no longer interested in rifling through my old school things. “You’ve really never heard of it?”

“No,” I said, and it seemed far-fetched enough that I found myself doubting him. “You don’t mean  _ every _ witch and wizard has one, do you?” 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t think so. Or if they do, they don’t always choose one another. But humans have always been notoriously bad at following their instincts,” he said. “You see it more with… well, with creatures.” 

“Creatures,” I repeated, my brows raised. 

“House elves, for instance,” he said, crossing the room and testing my mattress with his hands before sitting down on the edge. I watched him do it, and because he looked so completely at ease, I joined him, sitting beside him and then gasping a little as he wrapped an arm deftly around my waist and pulled me into his side. “They can only ever procreate with one other elf, and they almost always find one another.” 

“I didn’t know that,” I said, softly. Regulus leaned in toward me, nuzzling the top of my head, and then reached to unbutton his heavy robes, which he let fall onto the bed behind him, leaving him in just the slacks, shirt, braces, and the shoes he’d worn beneath. 

“Most people don’t. Centaurs are similar. Though they can procreate with any of their kind, they generally won’t until they’ve found the one for whom their soul sings.” 

“Thats—” I wanted to say ‘silly’ or ‘far-fetched’ but what came out instead was, “—romantic.”

His hand on my waist stilled but I didn’t dare look up at him.

“Yes,” he said softly, “It is.”

“I’ll have to see the research now, of course,” I said, clearing my throat. “Not that I think you’re wrong, but I’ll never have a moment of peace until I find out more.” 

Regulus leaned down, his face finding my neck as he nuzzled against it and his lips left a line of little kisses along my throat. I let him do it, not bothering to protest this time because I knew that though my sensibilities told me to deny him… what I really wanted was this.  _ Him _ . 

“I have books at the manor,” he said, “A whole library full of them.” His words vibrated against my skin, sending delicious chills down to my dance along my ribs.

“I think that’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

He laughed, and one of his hands came up to cup the back of my head as he lowered me gently to the bed. He settled himself beside me, shifting us both until we were lying side by side with our heads on the pillows. 

“Regulus?” 

“Hmm?” 

He was kissing my cheek now, trailing slowly down to my jaw. His hand in my hair kept me still but it wasn’t commanding… it was inviting. And I got the sense that what he was doing now, this gentle adoration and teasing banter… It wasn’t about seduction. This was a Regulus who wanted to know me, who wanted to be close without pressing me. 

This was a Regulus I very much wanted to know better… One I could see myself spending quiet evenings with and kissing goodbye in the mornings when I went to work. 

The realisation startled me.

“We aren’t engaged,” I said, swallowing as he froze with his mouth at the pulse on my neck.

“Hermione—”

I reached up and twined my fingers in the hair at the back of his head, pulling him just a little tighter against me. He sucked at the skin on my neck as if it were some sort of instinct. 

“But I think we could be dating,” I clarified. “If you— I mean, I don’t know if that’s something you want to—”

“Hermione.”

“Yes?”

“If it means you’ll let me kiss you whenever I please, we can be whatever you want us to be.”

My breath caught in my throat, and I clutched him tighter to me as he began to lave at the steady pulse beneath his tongue. 

“Reg?” 

“What?”

My eyes fluttered shut at the sensation, and I smiled. 

“You can kiss lower than that.”

  
  



	11. I’m very talented.

We slept together the night he came to my flat. 

We’d snogged tamely, like two teenagers discovering one another for the first time, and then we’d talked until the sun had risen and I’d looked over to see Regulus beside me, his face resting in the palm of his hand and the line that seemed to live between his brows completely relaxed in sleep. I’d let myself follow him after that, and we’d woken around noon the next day.

It had been more intimate than anything we’d done before, and it had made things between us feel real for the first time since he’d begun pursuing me. 

He was my— something. 

Boyfriend seemed too immature a word to describe him. Lover seemed inaccurate given he’d yet to actually make love to me. Significant Other, perhaps? 

All I knew was that he was  _ not _ my fiance, no matter how lovely and familiar and comforting his diamond felt around my neck, or how much his family magic seemed to like me. 

And it did seem to like me a considerable amount, as evidenced by the fact that I’d made it nearly half way through the ground floor of the manor already, and the curses—with very few exceptions—had melted away like candle wax. 

“What was that one?” 

Regulus sat on a chaise lounge in the corner of the room, a dusty old book propped open on his lap and his ankles crossed as his bare feet bobbed over the edge of the lounge chair. That morning, he had met me in the entrance hall when I’d come in through the floo. I’d been surprised, but not unpleasantly so, and he’d gone on to inquire about the rest of the weekend and to ask if I’d mind him sitting in while I worked.

At first, he’d watched, but after I’d cleared a room in under ten minutes, he’d smiled, plucked a book off of a shelf, and been content to simply exist in whichever room I was in. It was at once charming, comforting, and perplexing. It was almost as if the night we had spent at my flat, and the definition I’d given to what existed between us, had calmed him. Not that he’d lost interest—I’d caught him staring at me more than once that morning, his gaze following my hips or lingering on my chest before darting back down to his book—but he seemed less compelled to make me understand what he wanted between us, as if acknowledging his claim on me in any capacity had soothed something savage in him. 

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?” 

“That last curse. What was it?”

“Oh!” I looked down at the painting I’d laid out across a low table between us. “A displacement hex. Someone inserted an undetectable extension charm on the frame. If you’d touched the canvas you’d have been drawn through to a little cell behind it. It was empty thank goodness, but whoever cursed it didn’t want their captives leaving of their own accord. There were several wards and magical dampers on the cell.”

Regulus looked from me to the landscape and back up, an impressed expression on his face. “And you managed to sort it all out in under ten minutes?”

I shrugged and felt the corner of my mouth pull up a little. 

“I’m very talented.” 

His laughter was deep and reverberated through the room—through me. “In a multitude of ways,” he said. 

I blushed and ran both hands over the back of my neck and up over my head. The room was warm and I’d worked up a little sheen of sweat that the curls escaping from my bun were sticking to. 

“And you’d know, would you?” I asked, tucking my wand into my top knot at picking the painting up off of the table to hang on the wall. 

“I would,” said Regulus.

The frame settled into its spot on the wall, and I left it there, turning to face him instead. 

“I don’t suppose this,” I tapped the silver chain at my throat, “has anything to do with it, does it?”

Regulus’s grin was wide. “If you didn’t know the spells to use, your connection to the magic could hardly make a difference.” 

“Hmm.”

He laughed, sitting until his feet were flat on the floor and setting his book aside. “You seem sceptical.” 

“Not sceptical,” I said. I knew the necklace made a difference, I’d seen the runes binding it and its owner to a deep, powerful,  _ old _ magic myself. “I’m just… not familiar with family magicks.” 

“You’re Muggleborn,” said Regulus with a shrug.

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, keen observation.” 

He stood, and my gaze followed him up to his full, intimidating height as he watched me, his eyes glinting as his chest rumbled and he took a single step in my direction. “Don’t be rude, princess.” 

At his words, there was a sudden shift in the energy of the room. Where before, we had been laughing, teasing, and at ease… now I felt a delicious prickle running up my spine and a heady anticipation curling lazily in my belly.

  
“I—” fuck, my mouth was watering at the stern look he gave me. “I’m sorry.”

His disapproving expression morphed into a pleased one, and he took several more steps toward me, until he reached out and was able to take my wrist in his hand. He circled it for a moment before pressing his palm to mine and lifting the back of my hand up to his lips.    
  


“Good girl,” he said, those lips brushing against my skin for a moment before pressing a kiss to my already sensitized flesh. 

“Merlin, Reg.” 

“Call me daddy, baby girl,” he said mildly. “I like to hear it on your tongue when you get wet.” 

Bloody hell, was it that obvious what he did to me?

He leaned in, nuzzling my cheek and inhaling deeply as he moved my hand to his shoulder and then wrapped an arm around my waist, pulling me taught against him. I always felt so small in his arms, dwarfed by his stature and his broad shoulders and the powerful thighs I’d ground against in the past. His muscles were hard and strong and I knew he could move me however he wanted to… put me in any position that pleased him. 

“Yes, daddy,” I whispered, clearing my throat when the words came out hoarse and he rumbled against my ear. 

“What do you need, kitten?” His thumb traced circles above my hip and I felt my breath hitch. If he kept going, kept speaking to me in that deep voice and touching me with those deft fingers, I thought I might start begging. While that wouldn’t be an entirely bad thing… 

“I have questions,” I said, my lips brushing against his jaw. 

“Of course you do,” he said, sounding amused again, “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t. But is asking questions what you  _ really _ want right now?”

Fuck if I knew. All I was ever capable of thinking of when he held me like this was the weight of him over me and the thick slide of his cock against my folds. Since our last encounter in Gringotts I’d been able to fantasize in even more vivid detail, and it was hard to think rationally when I could remember the heat of him against my sex. Still… I was confused and curious, and if I could just put a little distance between us, I thought I might be able to get him to answer my questions. 

“Tell me about your family magic,” I said, tilting my face away from him and moving my hand from his shoulder down to settle over her wrist, stopping the movement of his fingers from my waist down to the crease of my thigh. 

He paused, his hand stopping at the front of my hip as he leaned back and peered down at me, his gaze heated. His silver eyes were hungry but the corner of his lips twitched upward and he stepped away completely, releasing me and then clasping his hands behind his back with a regretful sigh. 

“What would you like to know?” he asked, the hard, dominating part of him receding enough that I felt the sizzle between us settle into a warm glow. I was still damp between my thighs, but the voracious  _ need _ that accompanied desire for him faded enough that I could think clearly again. 

“How does this,” I fingered the chain again, “link me to it?” 

Regulus reached out, his eyes meeting mine before he touched me. I nodded, and he lifted the chain, drawing the diamond out from beneath my blouse and holding it in the palm of his hand. 

“It’s old magic,” he said. “Blood magic.”

My eyes widened at the confession. “Dark magic?”

“No,” said Regulus firmly. “Not dark. Just… ancient.”

“But how is it keyed to me? Wouldn’t you have needed  _ my _ blood to activate it?” 

He dropped the necklace and looked up at my face instead. 

“Normally, yes,” he admitted, gaze lingering on my lips. “In the past when the diamond has been presented, the bride has christened it with her blood. The diamond is a doorway to the family magic, you see.”

“A doorway?”

  
“Of a sorts.”

It made little sense to me, so I pressed on. “But how does your family magic differ from what we access as Muggleborns?” 

“It doesn’t,” he said with a shrug. “It’s all just as powerful, just as  _ real. _ But it’s like… like a shared history. I learned what my parents taught me, who learned what their parents taught them. Magic is the same. It has a similar understanding. It develops… proclivities.” 

“What do you mean?”  _ Proclivities? _ “That the magic is sentient?” 

“No,” he answered. “Gods, I’ve never had to explain it before.” He ran a hand up through his hair, the thick black waves slipping through his fingers and then settling back into a casual disarray. “The magic is a part of us, it’s passed from parent to child, like eye color or height. And just like our physical traits, our  _ magic _ has traits.” 

At the explanation, my eyes widened, and I drew in a single, deep breath of understanding. 

“Like DNA,” I said. 

Regulus frowned. “Like what?”

I waved off the question. “So the diamond it— Merlin. Blood magic. Of course.” It explained so much. If the diamond was a physical manifestation of the specific,  _ genetic _ magic that ran in the Black family’s line… then adding my own genetics to it would force it to recognize me as blood… it would give me access to the same traits and strengths the Black Family were known for… Only… “But I never bled on the thing.” 

He was still looking down at his hands now, inspecting the nails and then tucking them into the pockets of his trousers. “You didn’t have to,” he said without even glancing up at my face. “Our magic was similar enough that I could do it for you.” 

My eyes widened with shock, not that he saw them, and then I looked back down at the diamond on my chest. “But that’s not… normal?” I asked, not able to help myself… A fresh confusion coursing through me.

He shook his head. “No.” 

“Does it have anything to do with the third enchantment? The one I told you I didn’t recognize?”

He inhaled so sharply his nostrils flared, and then he looked up at me, his gaze intense as his shoulders stiffened. “What makes you think that?” he asked.

“It’s just a hunch.” 

“I see.” 

I waited in silence for several more moments, waited for him to say or do something more… but he just stood there, watching me expectantly. 

“What was the enchantment?” I asked at last. 

“One of my own creation,” he answered with a shrug.

I snorted. “Well, that’s helpful.” 

“It doesn’t have a name.” 

“What is its function, then?”

Another pause, this one long and pregnant with a tension I couldn’t quite place.

“To protect you,” he said at last.

“I saw the rune for free will in it.”

“Did you?”

“Don’t be obtuse.” 

His grin at the insult was so immediate and so  _ feral _ , I knew I’d made a mistake. 

“What did you just call me?”

“I— I only meant that you  _ set _ the charm. You would know what—”

“ _ Obtuse _ , am I?”

I was stepping toward me again, and I scrambled backward until I hit the wall and had nowhere left to go. 

Regulus smirked. 

“Reg—”

“Princess,” he said the word with a warning note in his voice that turned the slickness still pooled between my thighs from earlier into a hot, weeping mess. 

It was heady, how quickly the dynamic between us could change… knowing that if I objected it wouldn’t change at all. The power I had felt with other men paled in comparison to the power I held  _ here _ , not by demanding or by using my body to captivate… but by consenting. When I called him  _ daddy _ , when I let him touch me however he pleased and took what he had to give me… I felt like a goddamned goddess. 

“D-daddy,” I breathed.

“Kreacher,” said a high, rasping voice beside me.

I shrieked, and Regulus swore loudly. 

“Godsdamnit, elf, have you no sense of timing?” 

I pressed a hand to my heart, which was beating wildly now in my chest. 

“Only as much as Master does of shame,” said Kreacher. “Lunch is served.” 

I checked my wristwatch. 

“It’s barely ten,” I remarked. 

The house elf sniffed and apparated away. 

The moment sufficiently ruined, I slipped out from between the wall and Regulus’s body, patting my hair and straightening my clothes before I dared to look back at him. 

“We should go before he becomes insistent,” I said, “And I could use the loo.” 

Regulus smirked but covered the expression with his hand as he nodded. “I’ll meet you in the dining room,” he said. We parted ways in the hall, and I watched him go, blushing when he paused at the end and turned around to wink at me before disappearing around the corner. 

*****

We managed to keep our hands off of one another for the rest of that day and the next, but by the time Tuesday evening came I was a repressed mess, aching for  _ some _ sort of release and lying in my bed with fingers that were glistening with my own arousal but that just didn’t seem to be enough. 

No matter how I touched myself, no matter how aroused I was… It was no use. 

Nothing was as good as he was. 

“Hermione?”

My eyes flew open, two fingers still circling my clit as my heart beat increased. 

“Regulus?” I whispered. There was no response, and I almost managed to convince myself I’d imagined his voice when it sounded again, louder this time and filtering in from the other room. 

“Hermione, baby? Are you awake?”

“Oh my god,” I said, pulling my hand from between my thighs and wiping it on the sheet before I scrambled from the bed, grabbing the robe I’d draped over the back of a chair and wrapping myself in it before I left the room.

“Regulus?” I called his name again as I stepped into the living room. It was dark within but for the glow of emerald flames in the fireplace, and I stepped forward to inspect them. 

“Did I wake you?” His voice was thick and deep and filtering in through the Floo Network like sultry smoke. 

“I can’t see you,” I said, dropping to my knees beside the hearth and peering in. Normally when wizards called with the Floo, they poked their heads through. It was an odd practice, as an open connection transported the voice just as well as the body. 

“Did you want to? I can come through if you like.” 

My first instinct was to say yes… but given he hadn’t touched me in days, I thought seeing him in person after what I’d been doing moments before might be more torture than I could handle. 

“No, this is fine,” I said. 

“Shame. I’d like to know what you’re wearing.” 

My breath caught in my throat. 

“Hermione?”

“Silk,” I admitted. “A robe and a matching nighty beneath.” 

He made a rumbling, longing sound in his throat that carried through the connection just fine. “What color?”

“Green,” I admitted. 

“Describe it.” 

There was a hook low in my belly and it tugged at his words. 

“It’s—” I licked my lips. “It’s Slytherin green,” I said. “The robe ends just above the knee.” 

“And under the robe?” he asked. There was an authority in his voice that I’d heard before but which had never been so incredibly convincing. I closed my eyes to focus on it more fully. 

“Thin straps, low cut in a V… it barely covers my arse…” And then, because I knew it would rile him, I added, “My friend, Draco, gave it to me.” 

His reaction was instantaneous, and the ensuing growl filled my flat and stroked down my spine. 

“Take it off,” he demanded, “Then toss it through the floo.” 

I began untying the robe and slipped it off of my shoulders as I responded. “But then I’d have nothing to wear to bed.” 

“I’ll buy you another,” he said. 

I slipped the rest of the outfit off and leaned toward the flames. 

“I’m fond of this one,” I teased.

“Hermione…” there was a warning in the word, and I bit my lip to keep from laughing aloud. 

“Alright,” I said, putting my hand into the flames and watching as they flicked around it, cool and tickling against my skin before it disappeared from view. I could still  _ feel _ it, but both the hand up past the wrist and the green silk had gone. 

“Good girl,” said Regulus. He took my wrist in his hand before he pulled the fabric away from me. And then I felt soft, warm, worshipful lips trail over the palm of my hand before the tip of his nose followed suit and he breathed in so deeply I could hear it through the flames. 

“Fuuuuck, kitten. Where has this hand been?”

I gasped, drawing my arm back so quickly I stumbled when he released me, landing on my bottom with a thunk. The bare floor was cool against my skin, but my heart was beating so hard I could hear it in my ears and the sensation barely registered. 

“What?” I asked, my voice sounding very far away as I spoke. 

“Your hand,” he groaned. “Were you touching yourself with it, princess? Is that why it smells so much like your delicious little cunt?” 

“Reg…”

“Answer me, princess. Is that why it’s so lovely and fragrant? Why I can taste you on my lips now?”

God, I was pulsing between my thighs at his questions, and almost involuntarily I collapsed back onto the floor until I was laying there, supine, and aroused beyond words.

“Yes,” I said at last, my cheeks hot with the admission. 

“Did I interrupt you?” he asked.

“Y-yes.” 

“Poor baby girl,” he crooned. “Were you close? Did you stop on the edge for me?”

“No.” My fingers were wandering now, trailing down my stomach until they’d reached the apex of my thighs, as if of their own accord. I knew I should have been embarrassed, but Merlin, with his voice in my ear the very  _ last _ thing I could feel was any sort of inhibition. 

“Would you like to be close?”

“ _ Yes _ .” 

“You’re already touching yourself, aren’t you, princess?”

“Daddy, please, I want to.”

“Tsk tsk.” The disapproving sound came through just as loud and just as clear as the sound of him unzipping something and the rustle of fabric dropping to the floor. “Wait for me, Hermione.”

I whimpered, moving my hand up to grab at one of my breasts as I waited with bated breath… What I was waiting  _ for _ was unclear… but then he spoke again. 

“I want you to start with those lovely, soft breasts of yours,” he said, his voice reverberating around me. “Can you do that for me?”

“Mhmm.” I raised my other hand to do as he’d said. 

“Good. Now touch your nipples. Do it the way you like.” 

I started with circles, trailing around the areola until he spoke again. “Now do it the way  _ I _ like.” 

“Oh  _ shit _ .” I swore as I pinched the nipples, tugging at them for just a moment as a bolt of lust shot through them and down to my cunt. 

“More,” he demanded, and I tugged just a little harder, until the ache was so all consuming I cried out. 

“Good,” he said, growling again as I released myself, panting hard. “Again.” 

I lost track of time as he teased me… as he had me tease  _ myself _ . Soft caresses alternated with harsh pinches as he praised my effort and I pulsed so hard between my thighs I could feel my arousal dripping down to the floor. 

“Have you had enough?” he asked sometime after I’d started to beg. “Should we move on?”

“ _ Please _ .” 

“Alright. You can touch your pussy for me, princess.”

The first stroke of my fingers was enough to make me scream as they brushed over my sensitized clit and he chuckled darkly from his side of the fire. 

“Gods, you’re so needy, aren’t you? Tell me how it feels.” 

“So good,” I choked out, circling my clit now, never touching it directly as I let the sensation build. 

“Describe it.” 

“W-wet. Hot. Slick.” 

“Tight?”

I shuddered. “Don’t know. Not… inside.” 

He made a disapproving sound. “Let’s remedy that, shall we? One finger to start with, Hermione. Keep your thumb on your clit while you do it.” 

“Oh god!”

“How’s that? Tight? Can you feel all your little ridges? Feel yourself fluttering?”

“Yes, I can feel it, daddy!”

“Two fingers for me, baby girl. Can you do that? Stuff yourself full of your fingers and pretend they're my cock?” 

Merlin. I curled my fingers automatically, brushing against my g-spot— _ his _ , said a small voice in the back of my head—and crying out. 

“You wish it were me, don’t you?” he asked, but he didn’t wait for an answer, “Wish I was filling you up, stretching you on my cock and letting you feel every inch. Fuck, princess. I’m not even sure you could take it all, but the gods know I’ll try.”

“Regulus!” I was working myself in earnest now, doing it the way I wanted  _ him _ to do it. Imagining him there above me.

“Three fingers, baby. Just for me.” 

I groaned aloud at the sensation, at the fullness and the pulsing as I stroked my clit with my thumb and filled myself to the brim as he’d demanded. 

“How does it feel?  _ Answer me _ .”

“So full,” I sobbed, “Wet and full and tight and— Oh  _ god _ . Daddy, I’m gonna come!”

“Ride your hand, kitten. Fuck yourself for me.” 

“Oh— _ Oh _ !” 

“That’s right. Keep going. Don’t stop. Not even for a second. You hear me?”

The climax washed over me, my hand soaked in it and my body trembling as I broke out into a sweat and screamed. I fluttered and quivered and trembled, my fingers squeezed tight in my cunt as I pressed my thumb hard against the top of my clit and and the first orgasm rolled straight into another. 

“ _ Fuck _ , baby girl. You sound so sexy like that. I can hear you touching yourself, hear how wet you are. Fuck, I can even smell you.” Something about the statement struck me but I didn’t have the capacity to stop and examine it, because he was speaking again after that. “Can you give me one more? Just one, princess. I want to hear you scream my name this time.”

“I don’t— Reg, I can’t—”

“Just one. I won’t give you permission to stop until you give it to me. Pinch your nipple while you do it, kitten.” 

I did as he told me to, and on the third peak, I shattered. 

“Regulus!” 

I lost track of myself after that, lost track of much of anything, all I knew was the satisfying limpness of my body and the litany of soft words and effusive praises coming through the floo. I fell asleep there, bathed in the warmth of the emerald fire, with his voice in my ear and the rumbling, triumphant growl he’d given as I’d come, on my mind.

*****

The next morning, I woke in my own bed—though I had no memory of having made my way there—to the sound of a telephone ringing somewhere in the flat. Bleary eyed, I sat up, reaching instinctively for my robe and frowning in confusion when I grabbed hold of a long, black one that was far too large for me. 

The phone rang again. 

I put on the robe, tying the belt as the scent of pine and spice hit me and I realized exactly whose robe I’d just wrapped myself in. 

_ Bring! Bring! _

I rushed out of the bedroom and toward the kitchen, catching the phone on it’s final ring and lifting it to my ear. 

“Hello! Mum?” There were only two people with the number to this flat, so I was reasonably sure I had a fifty percent chance of being right. 

“Hermione, there you are. I thought I’d called while you were working.” 

“No, I’m here,” I said unnecessarily, checking the clock on the wall and wincing when I realized I was already late for work. 

“Lovely. I won’t keep you long dear, I was just calling to see what you want for your birthday.” 

“My… I thought the hacienda was my gift?” 

“The  _ hacienda _ ?” My mother lowered the phone and shouted, “Richard, was opening the Hacienda your gift for Hermione’s birthday this year?” I heard my father’s voice in the background and my mother came back on the line. “He says it wasn’t. It would be crass to give a gift that early.” 

“Early?”

“It was a month ago, wasn’t it?” 

“My birthday?” 

“No, darling,  _ Spain _ .” 

“Um. Yes. And I went  _ for _ my birthday.”

“Don’t say um, dear. And why on earth would you go a month in advance?”

“Mum, my birthday was in September.” 

A small part of me expected her to laugh and tell me she had known and was only being silly… but the larger part of me… the one who had always come second to both of my parents and hadn’t even merited a call my  _ actual  _ birthday… Well, that part knew the truth before my mother even spoke. 

“Was it? Bless, I’d forgotten.” She laughed and it was like the tinkling of a bell. “Time does fly. In any case, dear, I still owe you a gift. Think about what you’d like, will you? You can call when you settle on something.” 

“Alright,” I said, my eyes stinging. “I’ll do that. Richard, did you want to speak to Hermione?” 

“Mum, it’s alright, he doesn’t have to.” 

“Sorry, darling. He’s tied up at the moment.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“Right. You’ll be off to your job soon, I expect?” 

I swallowed and nodded before remembering she couldn’t see me, and then said “Yes.” 

“Anything new I ought to know?” my mother asked perfunctorily, as if she were asking about the weather.

I thought about saying nothing, but the robe that sat warm and comforting around me was enough to make me feel I should. It was my  _ mother _ I was speaking to after all. Girls told their mums things like this. 

“Actually, I’ve started seeing someone.” 

“Really? Is he a witch too?”

“He’s a wizard, mum.” 

There was a little pause on the other end of the line. 

“That’s lovely dear. Anything else?” 

My heart sank down to my stomach. 

“No,” I said. “I should be going.” 

“Ta then, darling. Phone when you know what you’d like for a gift.” 

“Bye,” I said as the line went dead.

As I dressed, discarding the long robe and pulling on my work clothes instead, I reminded myself that my mother’s reaction didn’t mean anything. I was a woman grown, of age in the magical world for three years now. Intelligent. Employed. Contributing to society. I didn’t need my mother’s enthusiasm… I didn’t need her to be interested in me to have value. 

But a small part of me, the part that was still very much the little Muggle girl who had called my nanny ‘mum’ for nearly a year before my mother had noticed, ached. It wondered whether this lack of interest was for a reason… whether it was because of me… and whether in time, Regulus would lose interest too. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, I've been getting no writing done lately. I have, however, been eating copious amounts of ice cream and chocolate, so, you know, win some lose some. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	12. Would another taste help you decide?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while again, but that seems to be the nature of the year we are in. Good news, though! My kids go back to school next week, so I should have more time to write! Send me as many creative vibes as you can spare, y'all! PS: I hope you enjoy this chapter! It's one of my favorite things I've ever written.
> 
> LM

Lunch had been early, as usual, with a variety of scrumptious delicacies Kreacher had delighted in presenting one by one. We’d taken our time. We’d been proper. We’d used the correct utensils and we’d sipped our Pumpkin Juice between polite bouts of conversation. Which was, perhaps, why I had no idea how I’d ended up naked, drizzled with honey, and on my knees at the dead center of the over-long dining room table.

“You’ve been very good,” Regulus murmured against my skin, his face buried between my breasts as he used his tongue to lap up another generous drizzle of honey he’d painted me with. “Staying so still and letting me clean you.” 

“Least I could do—” My breath hitched on the last word as he encased an entire nipple in his mouth, sucking hard enough that I shuddered with the pleasure of it. 

“Mmm. I can’t decide what tastes better—” he rumbled, his lips still feathering against my breast, “—you or the honey.” 

“Would another taste help you decide?” Slowly,  _ wantonly _ , I slipped a hand between my thighs, tracing my fingers over slick flesh and then raising them to his lips. 

He took them eagerly, using his tongue to clean them of the mixture of my own arousal and the sweet honey he’d trickled over my sex earlier. 

“It’s you,” he decided, and he pulled me to the edge of the table, settling my thighs against his as he stood there before me and slid one of his thumbs through my sex. “Taste.”

His thumb was sweet and tangy against my tongue as I opened for him, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation. Fuck, what wouldn’t I give to have not just his thumb in my mouth, but the arousal he’d used to make me climax so stupendously in the vaults beneath Gringotts? I’d  _ dreamt _ of it. How it would taste, how solidly it would fit between the roof of my mouth and my tongue, how much my jaw would ache when I was done… a good ache, the kind that told me I’d been well used. 

God, did I want him to use me. 

I showed him what I needed, capturing his wrist in my hands and keeping him there so I could swirl my tongue and scrape my teeth lightly and try to get him as far back as I could manage, so he could feel what he was missing. 

He groaned, and I matched the sound, popping off of his thumb and leaning in to kiss his neck just above the collar of his shirt. 

“Please.” He knew what I was begging for. He had to know. “I need you.”

“I’m here,” he said, voice gruff. I could tell he was trying to restrain himself, and I hated it. 

“Let me,” I begged, my hands tracing down over the rippling muscles of his abdomen to the belt he wore. I started to work open the buckle. “I promise it’ll be good.  _ I’ll _ be good.” 

“Baby girl.” There was a note of caution in his voice, but I ignored it, shimmying back over the table top until I was spread out on my stomach, my face exactly level with his zipper. 

“We both want it.” I pulled his belt through its loops, dropping it on the table beside me and then starting to unbutton his trousers. “Please don’t tell me no.” 

“Fuck.” He shivered as I finished with his trousers and began to tug at his pants. “How can I say no when you look so lovely begging?” 

I took my time lowering his underwear, keeping my gaze on his shining eyes, intense with desire. It was riveting, the way he looked at me, like I was everything in the world that mattered. Like I was important.

And then I looked down. 

“Holy shit.”

He chuckled warmly and reached down with one hand, his strong fingers tracing over my jaw until his thumb was stroking over my lower lip. 

“You don’t have to,” he said. 

“If you think there’s any stopping me now, you’re daft.” 

I moved before he could say another word, his hand sliding up my cheek and into my hair as I took the head of the most magnificent cock I’d ever seen into my mouth. It was thick and slightly salty at the tip where my tongue traced the slit. I had to open wide to fit it in, and even then, he was only partially obscured—I could still see the length of him extending down to the root. 

“Gods, Hermione,” he rasped, and as I slid him deeper, he let out a low hiss. “Oh  _ shit _ .” 

It felt good, both the proof of his desire for me in my mouth, and the unrestrained way he grabbed onto my hair, clenching it tight in both fists and guiding me down. 

“Fuck, princess. Don’t know how I’ve gone this long without your mouth on me. Don’t think I’ll be able to make it another day without feeling it.”

He hit the back of my throat and I tried to relax it, pushing myself down on his length until I couldn’t breathe and the only things I could hear were his groans and the thudding of my heartbeat in my ears.

He drew back before I was ready, his hands pulling me off of him as he peered down with wide, wild eyes. 

“Did I hurt you?”

“More,” I begged, moving until the hair at my scalp was pulled taught and I had the tip of him back in my mouth. 

“Slow down, baby. I can’t control myself if you—” He gasped as I took him in my throat again, and it was the most satisfying sound in the world. I didn’t stop until my nose was nestled in the curls at the base of his cock, and the heady scent of clean musk overwhelmed me as my eyes began to water.

“Fuck.” His hips jutted forward and took me with them, his thick length lodged so deep in my throat I couldn’t help but me moved along with him. He withdrew long enough to let me breathe then, and piled my hair into his fist at the top of my head before letting me swallow him again.

“Close your eyes, princess,” he demanded, though it sounded like more of a plea than an order. “Can you do that for me? Close those pretty eyes and just feel me?” He pulled himself away, and I could tell he expected an answer. 

“Yes,” I breathed, my chin wet with my own saliva now as I licked my lips. 

“Good girl.” 

He fucked my mouth after that. There wasn’t a delicate way to put it. He took charge and took  _ me _ , savoring the feel of my warm throat and my questing, voracious tongue. And I’d never enjoyed giving head so much in my life. I was good at it, I thought I’d  _ perfected _ it… but the way he took what he needed, going as deep as he wanted and stroking my chin as I took it… Merlin, it made me wet in other places and made me feel unbearably empty. 

“So good, so lovely. Shit baby, I’d no idea you could take my cock so deep. Bet I’d be able to see it in your throat.  _ Gods _ .” 

I dug my fingernails into the backs of his thighs as he pulled me back down over him, enjoying the fierce jut of his hips in response.

“You’d let me spill here, wouldn’t you, Hermione?” 

I couldn’t help it, I opened my eyes on the next withdrawal and looked up at him. He was staring down at me with eyes that shone bright as twin moons around pupils blown so wide with desire they nearly swallowed the light completely. 

“Take it,” he said as he slid back between my lips, his gaze never leaving mine, the darkness there swallowing me up entirely until the only thing that mattered was the press of him against the back of my throat. 

But then it stopped, that insistent pressure, and I realized my jaw was wider than it had been before, that it really was starting to ache.

“ _ Fuck _ !” 

He whirled around so fast I cried out, losing my balance a little and pitching forward until I caught myself on the edge of the table with both hands and scooted back enough that I could look back up at him. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“Reg?”

“Merlin, Hermione.” He pulled up his trousers, buttoning and zipping them before he turned to face me, his hard length still entirely too visible to be decent behind the thin fabric he wore. “I’m sorry. I got carried away.” 

Face flushed with arousal and coated in my own sweat, spit, and tears from my exertion, I frowned up at him. “That was the point.” 

He groaned, stepping close again and taking me by the hair before I could process what he was doing. He pressed himself back to my face, rubbed himself against my through the trousers as he growled.

“You’ve no idea how much I want to finish what you started, pet. How much I need to come in you—on you.”

“Do it… please.” 

Another gruff sound accompanied by a caress against my opposite cheek before he pulled me up, lifting me easily until I was sitting on the edge of the table with my thighs on either side of his. 

“You think I don’t want that?” 

“Daddy—” I tried, but I was cut off by his teeth nipping my bare shoulder. 

“You think I don’t want, more than anything in the world, to make you mine completely? Princess, you’ve no idea the things I want to do to you.  _ With _ you… But I made a promise.” 

“A— a promise?”

His hand moved between us and he set his palm over the diamond between my breasts. The jewelry was slightly sticky still and he closed his eyes as he leaned in and pressed his forehead to mine. “You’re not ready,” he said, voice hoarse. 

“But—”

“Will you marry me?”

My heart flipped in my chest. 

“What?”

“Will you be my wife? Take my name? Have my children? Spend the rest of your life in my arms. Beside me. Beneath me… Around me?”

I froze, fiendfyre and ice warring inside of me, telling me I wanted nothing more and nothing less, telling me that if only I could be  _ his _ I would be content.  _ Whole _ . 

But I had a brain, too, and despite the wildness in me that seemed to be galloping toward an inevitability I wasn’t ready to acknowledge, it objected. 

“Regulus, I can’t. I— want this—” I placed a hand on his chest, mirroring his on the pendant, “—but we only—I mean, we barely—”

I was saved from saying anything more when he leaned in, taking my lips in a kiss so tender I wanted to take back my objection. What was bothering me anyway? That I felt too much too quickly? That the things he made me feel were new and foreign and all consuming? That I actually  _ wanted _ to give myself to him? All of me? Every  _ bloody  _ inch?

What was wrong with wanting someone? With wanting  _ him _ and what he was offering? A lifetime of this heat, this earnest devotion. What could be so wrong with that?

He broke the kiss, his hands at my waist now. “Look,” he said,“You should probably go.” 

“What?”  _ What!? _

He winced at the distress in my voice and gave me another kiss, this time on my forehead. “I don’t mean it like that. I just… I know you’ve got reports to submit this weekend, for the bank.” 

I did, but how  _ that _ had suddenly become a priority to him, I didn’t know. 

“Reg, I’m sorry—”

“No. You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He smiled, but there was something hollow about it. “I’ll wait as long as you need me to, I swear it.” 

“But I—”

“Besides,” he kissed the tip of my nose and stepped back, leaving me bare on the tabletop, my legs still spread to accommodate the space he’d occupied. “I’ve got business this weekend I can’t get away from. I’ll be traveling.”

“Oh.” Was he dismissing me? After what we’d just done? “I suppose I’ll…” I looked around, spotting my clothes hanging off of various chairs and in heaps on the floor. “I’ll get dressed.” 

“Take your time.” He was inspecting his hands now, and I silently urged him to look up at me, to meet my eyes and let me see what the hell was going on inside of his head. But he didn’t; he just cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again. “I should start on my… work. Can I have Kreacher come and see you out?”

_ What the fuck _ ? Was that a pause before the word ‘work’? Was ‘work’ a euphemism? A  _ lie _ ?

“Don’t worry,” I answered, sliding off of the table, my spine suddenly made of steel. “I can find my way.” 

He seemed to hesitate as I found my underthings, his brows furrowed and his lips pursed as he watched me dress, but then he shook his head once and forced a smile. 

“I’ll see you next week,” he said. “I’ll be back Tuesday morning. You can—you might work in the vaults until then.” 

Fuck the vaults, and fuck him. He wasn’t being truthful, and I hated it. 

“Right. Sure thing. Tuesday.”

I didn’t watch him go, but I felt something shift inside me as he disappeared through the dining room door, leaving a gaping, aching spot in the center of my chest.

*****

The emptiness gnawed at me from the moment I left, like a boggart sitting beneath my ribs and demanding my constant, unwavering attention. It was dark and formless, a reflection of my own insecurities, and I hated it. 

I tried to focus on work, because Regulus had been right (damn him), and I had several reports to submit to Grog-Kell. Unfortunately, I’d managed to leave my meticulous notes at Blackgate Hall, the ones cataloguing each and every item I’d cleared in the manor. Under normal circumstances, I might not have needed the notes, but considering the swift pace at which I’d worked my way through the property, It was difficult to remember every piece off the top of my head. 

Still, I did my best. I didn’t have the notes, and Regulus had made it  _ exceedingly _ clear that I wasn’t welcome at the manor until Tuesday, so I tried to make do. I drafted the reports, leaving space for the items I knew I’d forgotten, and then sat on it for the remainder of the weekend… seething.

How dare he? How  _ dare _ he! 

He’d asked me to marry him. Actually  _ asked _ with words so searing I’d actually considered saying yes. And then he’d dismissed me? 

The absolute nerve. 

I was a lot of things: intelligent, pretty, ambitious, bossy, and certainly proud… but one thing I wasn’t was gullible. Unobservant, on occasion, yes. But easily deceived? Never. I was far too suspicious from a lifetime of having to read between the lines to miss the signs of duplicity, and I was almost one hundred percent certain that Regulus had indeed been duplicitous. How, I wasn’t certain, but I would have wagered that it had to do with his plans for the weekend, and why he didn’t want me at the manor. 

That only left a very few options, really. Either he was doing something he didn’t want me to know about (which meant I probably should know before making any drastic decisions concerning our future) or he just didn’t want to see  _ me _ . I couldn’t decide which would be worse. On the one hand, if he was keeping secrets it meant he was likely ashamed of them, which meant he could be doing any number of unsavory things up to and including sleeping with other women, organizing secret societies, and ritualistically sacrificing Muggleborns. I wasn’t particularly fond of any of those options, but on the other hand… I didn’t think I could bear it if it was  _ me _ that was the issue, if he simply wanted space because he was growing disinterested in what I had to offer or giving up on my ever accepting his proposal. Because the truth was that I’d allowed myself to grow unwisely attached to the blasted man. 

And wasn’t that just the most ridiculous thing—to be swept off of my feet by a man who was certainly hiding something, was possibly a philanderer, and probably a bad idea? 

Merlin, but I hated the lack of conclusive evidence. If I knew one way or another, perhaps the boggart in my chest—which was now vaguely Regulus shaped—might dissipate, leaving me with either righteous anger or sweet relief in its stead. 

Of course… there was one way to find out for sure. 

I could always go to the manor. 

I checked my wristwatch. It was already half past ten. It was Sunday. I’d look like a lunatic showing up at this time of night… But I  _ had _ left my notes in my haste to leave on Friday afternoon, and I  _ did _ need them to finish the work Grog-Kell was expecting by Monday. Surely it wouldn’t be a problem if I popped through the Floo just to grab them. And If Regulus wasn’t there, I could lay my suspicions to rest. If he was though—well, I suppose I’d know one way or another. 

“Right. Get to it, Granger,” I muttered as I stood. If I was going to make a self-centered, possibly stalkerish decision, I may as well get it over and done with. 

I reached my fireplace in a few seconds, grabbing a handful of floo powder from the mantle and tossing it in as I said, “Blackgate Hall.” For a moment, flames flickered green, but before I could step through, they disappeared altogether. 

“Well, shit.” He’d closed the connection. If I’d been paranoid before, that fact alone was enough to convince me that  _ something _ was going on. 

“Fine,” I said, leaving the mantle and grabbing my cloak off of the coat rack where I kept it beside the front door. I wrapped it around myself, the fabric thick and smooth against my skin, and then apparated. 

When I reappeared outside the gates of the property, it was directly beneath one of the gnarled oak trees that flanked the entrance. The gate opened for me as it had the first time, and I strode down the lane through the dark with determined steps and a straight spine, until I’d passed the pond and was standing on the front steps. Before I could knock, however, the door swung open. 

“Mistress?” Kreacher stood there, his miniature features cast in shadows by the light behind him. 

“Hello, Kreacher,” I said, my voice more quavering than I had intended. “I’m here to collect my notes. I left them on Friday, you see.”

The house elf didn’t move, just stared blankly up at me for a moment before I took a step toward the entrance and he cleared his throat. 

“Kreacher can retrieve them for you, Mistress,” he said, and I watched as he shifted subtly to block my way. 

“I know right where I left them,” I insisted. “I’m sure Regulus wouldn’t mind if I—”

“Master Regulus is indisposed.”

“Oh.” My heart sank down to my toes. “So he’s here.”

Kreacher winced and then grabbed his large ears, tugging at them as his eyes seemed to well up with tears. “Kreacher couldn’t say.” 

“Of course,” I said. “You’d be bound to keep your master’s secrets, I’m sure.” I felt numb. “I’ll just… you know what?  _ Accio  _ Hermione’s catalogue!” 

I waited on the porch—like the intruder I was—as the spell worked and Kreacher dithered in distress by the door. At last, as I spotted the notebook zooming around a corner, he said, “Mistress, Kreacher is thinking that—” 

“It’s quite alright,” I interrupted, snatching the slim book out of the air and turning around abruptly. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Mistress!” The poor elf sounded distressed, but all I could feel was a roiling in my stomach at the confirmation I had hoped not to find here. 

Regulus was a liar. He’d  _ lied _ to me.

“Kreacher, what the devil was—Hermione?” 

At the sound of his voice filtering through the still open door behind me, I broke into a run, desperate to be away from the manor and the man within. 

“ _ HERMIONE! _ ” The words were bellowed on the air, reverberating past me and echoing on the empty grounds. I heard the moment he gave chase, but unlike the last time, it didn’t thrill me. I didn’t want to see him, didn’t want to chance catching a glimpse of someone else's lipstick on his collar, or a whiff of someone else's perfume lingering in the air around him. I just wanted to be gone, to forget I’d come in the first place and forget  _ him _ . 

“Godsdammit, Hermione, stop!” 

I wouldn’t. I was nearly past the pond now, and I would run until I reached the gate and I could disapparate, leaving this all behind. 

Of course, as I’d learned once before, Regulus was incredibly fast, and by the time I was half way down the lane he was on my heels, then beside me, and then cutting me off as he stopped dead in the road ahead of me. I stumbled to keep from colliding with him, cursing as the toe of my trainer caught in the gravel and he reached out to steady me. 

His hands were warm—sweltering even, through the thick cloak I wore, and I could see sweat on his brow. He was saying something, but I didn’t quite register it over the sounds of Kreacher wailing as he followed us. 

“You lied to me!” I didn’t realize I’d said the words aloud until Regulus’s silver eyes widened and he grimaced. 

“Hermione, let me explain—”

“No! You’re a deceitful, miserable cad!” I felt something wet on my cheeks and swiped at it furiously. 

“Mistress,  _ please _ !” Kreacher had reached us and was wailing, sounding both distressed and pitiful as he pleaded. 

“I swear, I wasn’t trying to—” Regulus tried again, but I pushed past him.

“I don’t give a  _ shit _ ,” I said. “Leave me be!”

“Master must—”

“Leave me be, Kreacher! Dammit, Hermione, slow down!” 

The demand enraged me, and I whirled around, my cloak billowing behind me almost as expertly as a professor of mine at Hogwarts’ had. 

“You don’t get to tell me what to do, Regulus Black!” I pointed a finger in his direction as he stopped, hands held out with palms facing me in the universal pose of a man supplicating a woman for forgiveness. “Not after you lied to me and—”

“Mistress must go,” Kreacher whined, tugging at my wrist and pulling me further down the road. I yanked my hand away and rounded back on Regulus. 

“What were you trying to hide, you arsehole? Or is it just that you didn’t want to see me?”

“Fucking hell,  _ of course _ I wanted to see you!” Regulus reached up, fisting his hair and pulling at it as he growled with what seemed like frustration but might just have been good old fashioned anger. “What the fuck do I have to do to convince you that you’re  _ it _ for me, woman!”

They were the right words, and it was embarrassing how much I wanted to believe them, how much they made my stomach flip, but… “You told me you were traveling!” 

“Because it was easier!” 

“Easier than the truth?! That’s rich.” I turned my back on him again and started toward the gate, which was in sight now. 

“Master!” 

“Let me be!”

“You mustn’t—”

“Hermione!”

_ SNAP _ .

The sound was thick, and wet, and sickening on the air, echoing off of the trees lining the lane and stopping me in my tracks. 

_ POP _ !

Someone shouted, and I turned to face the sound.

Regulus was on his knees in the middle of the gravel path, doubled over with his arms wrapped around his body and Kreacher hovering beside him.  _ He _ was the one shouting. 

“Reg?”

Another loud, squelching snap, and I watched in horror as Regulus fell onto his hands and his broad shoulders dropped low while his back cracked up in an unnatural curve. 

“Regulus!” I ran to him, panic setting in as he dropped to his side and an anguished scream ripped from this throat, his whole body alternately spasming and wrenching itself in different directions. His arm here, his hips there, all at angles that made me certain he’d been hexed and his death was imminent.

“Stop!” The authority in the house elf’s voice was hard to ignore as he threw himself between my body and Regulus’s. “Mistress cannot! The master would never forgive himself!”

“He’s dying!” I screamed, certain now that his death was what I was witnessing. God, I had to help him! “Out of my way!” I demanded, my wand in my hand as I tried to rush around the elf. 

“NO!” This time, the objection came from Regulus himself, and his voice was so deep and so booming that I almost didn’t recognize it. I froze in horror as he managed to push himself up onto his hands and knees, his arms and legs bowing backward and his skin tearing open at his neck and jaw. 

And then I realized, as claws cut through his fingers and thick black fur began to sprout out of the open wounds in his skin,  _ exactly _ what was happening. 

“Oh my god.” 

“You must go!” Kreacher was tugging at my hand again, and I stumbled backward until I lost my balance, collapsing onto the ground as the elf cried out in dismay. 

Eyes still on Regulus—or what had once  _ been _ Regulus—I noted the moon hanging full and round just above the horizon behind him. It looked like his eyes, oddly enough, shining bright and throwing shadows over the now still and panting body in the middle of the lane. 

It was breathing.  _ He _ was breathing. And then he was on his feet—paws, of which there were four.

“You’re a…” 

The sound of my voice was enough to draw his attention, and I watched in ever burgeoning horror as he began to stalk toward me. He was at least my height, probably taller, and covered in thick black fur. The clothes he had worn were in tatters on the ground because he was broad too, and his teeth were bared, sharp,white and menacing. 

I don’t know why I didn’t run, why I didn’t turn and bolt for the gates to safety as Kreacher had been urging before the change had taken hold. Perhaps it was something in my gut, some instinct that told me I  _ couldn’t _ run, that he would catch me if I tried… That he would have to give chase. 

“Stay still, Mistress,” whispered Kreacher. 

The wolf’s silver eyes glowed, and they flicked toward Kreacher for a moment before looking back at me. 

Kreacher shuffled forward, pausing a few feet behind me as the wolf growled, his stride lengthening as he advanced until he stood before me, close enough that I could reach out and touch him. 

“R-regulus?”

He dipped his head, shifting forward on massive paws until his snout was nestled against my chest. He inhaled, and I stopped breathing all together as that nose trailed downward, brushing between my breasts, over my belly, and then stopping between my thighs to take another deep breath. I shivered.

“Oh god.” 

And then I noticed Kreacher at my side, reaching forward slowly with one hand toward the wolf as he looked up at me. “Go,” he said, as his fingers stroked the wolf’s dark fur and Regulus growled, the sound rumbling through my entire body. 

  
And then they were gone with a soft  _ pop _ and I was left in the lane alone, my heart racing, my face hot, and with the answer I hadn’t even known to look for thundering through my mind. 


	13. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.

I was an idiot. Looking back over our interactions and all the small (and not so small) signs, it was the only conclusion I could draw. I wasn’t as intelligent as I gave myself credit for… either that, or I was far less worldly than I had thought. 

Regulus Black was a werewolf, and I had missed it. 

I’d ignored the ever shifting eyes, the smoky grey glowing brilliant silver when he was impassioned. I’d overlooked the senses of smell and hearing that were, now, obviously preternatural. I’d dismissed the casual way he’d referred to “humans” when he’d said we were bad at following our instincts. The growling. The sniffing. The instinct to chase me when I ran… Merlin, how much more obvious could he have been?

Of course, he might have tried  _ telling _ me, the arse, but looking back to the dinner at Number Twelve now, I could tell that he hadn’t told  _ anyone _ . Certainly not his brother. Why should I have been any different? 

_ Because he asked you to marry him! _

Yes, there was that. He’d proposed (and insisted that I had accepted) without disclosing an extremely pertinent fact. Nevermind that it was a fact I understood his hesitancy in sharing. At Hogwarts, I had learned of the sweeping reforms which had overtaken the Ministry after the Blood War. Werewolf rights had come later during the reformation, not until four or five years after the fall of Voldemort. His having fled upon infection would have been understandable. The secrecy would have been as well. But now? Now there was no distinction between lycanthropes and wizards to the law. Certainly not to  _ me _ . One of my favorite professors at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin, had been a werewolf, as had a girl in my year named Lavender Brown. I wouldn’t have cared if he’d told me… 

But he hadn’t told me. He’d hidden it. He’d lied to keep it secret from me. And what sort of relationship was built on secrets?

I’d mulled over the question for the rest of the night as the full moon had tracked across the sky, and when I had woken the following afternoon after a fitful morning spent tossing and turning, I’d mulled it over some more. 

It was confusing, the dichotomy of opinions swirling around in my head. A part of me wanted to forgive him completely. The transformation I’d witnessed had looked painful, and I didn’t blame him for wanting to experience it alone. Another part of me, however, wanted to row with him in spectacular fashion, to force him to explain why he’d failed to mention such a very large part of himself to me. 

I wasn’t prejudiced, but I wasn’t stupid either. Lycanthropy was a merging of creature and wizard which changed a man. It heightened his instincts and affected his moods… It changed his destiny, which was why there was something else bothering me, something aside from his secrecy.

We’d learned about Werewolves during my third year at Hogwarts, making a study of them which was aided by the fact that our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was one and had been all too happy to answer any questions regarding his lycanthropy. During that unit I’d learned a lot. I’d learned about the symbiotic relationship between the inner wolf and the wizard, about the lunar cycle and its effect on the lycanthrope, about the heightened senses and abilities… and about the fact that, upon occasion, werewolves have mates. 

Regulus had seemed so certain from the very first moment—once he’d gotten close enough to scent me, I now realized—that I was the one for him. He’d spent a single night giving me pleasure and then sent me his proposal. Was that the wolf in him? Had he recognized me then as something more than just a girl in a club he owned, trying to seduce him? Had something inside of him that acted on instinct more than intellect  _ decided _ I was more? 

And the more I examined things, the more I realized he wasn’t the only one drawn in. I could hardly control myself where he was concerned. Every move he made, everything he said, appealed to me in ways nothing ever had before. Was it for a reason? 

I couldn’t settle on an answer, no matter how many times I turned it over in my mind, so when Monday evening came and there was a knock at my door, I felt my stomach lurch. 

I knew who it was before I looked through the peephole and saw him standing in a closely cut black suit, dark circles beneath his eyes and several shallow scratches across his nose. 

“Hello,” he said when I opened the door. I was wearing the robe he’d left me a week before, and I was very aware that my hair was a nest of ungroomed curls. 

“Hi,” I responded. 

“Can I come in?” 

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.” 

He frowned, not looking directly at me as he stilled and said, “Please.” The word was more growl than question, and I realized he must still be feeling the effects of the previous night’s moon.

“Regulus—”

“I tried owling,” he interrupted. “It came back with the letter.” 

“I didn’t hear it.” It was a lie. I’d heard the thing, but I’d left the window firmly shut. I hadn’t been ready to hear what he had to say. I wasn’t sure I was now either.

“Bullshit.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Bull. Shit.” He met my gaze, his silver eyes reminding me of the truth I’d discovered the night before. 

“You don’t get to do that,” I said, folding my arms over my chest and tensing my jaw. “Not after what you did.” 

“What I did,” he echoed. 

“Yes.”

“And what was that exactly?” His voice was rumbling and I avoided his gaze as he glowered down at me. 

“You  _ lied _ to me,” I hissed. 

“I never—”

“Bullshit.” 

He grit his teeth, and the rumbling turned into another growl. I peeked out the door, glancing down the hall to make sure my neighbors were nowhere in sight. 

“Hermione—”

“A lie of omission is still a  _ lie _ ! Did you not think I deserved to know? You proposed, for Circe’s sake, but you couldn’t find time to tell me you’re a bloody  _ werewolf _ ?”

His entire body stiffened and he took a step toward me until he was beneath the doorframe. I realized then exactly how large he was, with shoulders so broad they almost eclipsed everything beyond. 

“Excuse me,” he said, “For wanting to hide the one thing most likely to make you run in the opposite direction for at least a little while.” 

“You’re not helping your case.” 

“I’m not trying to—” He paused, baring his teeth and inhaling sharply, as if he were trying to keep from saying something divisive. “Look, I don’t have much practice disclosing… what you saw.”

“Your lycanthropy,” I said pointedly.

He didn’t bother to agree, he just continued. “I wasn’t trying to lie to you. I knew, obviously, that it wasn’t something I could keep to myself long term… but I had hoped you might come to know  _ me _ before being faced with the beast.” 

“Because… what?” My hands were on my hips, and I realized I was being confrontational, and that my tone was shrill and ever increasing in volume, but I excused myself. “You thought I’d be scared off? Thought I was some prejudiced rich girl who wouldn’t give you the time of day? God, that’s flattering.” 

He winced a little, one hand reaching for his temple as I continued, practically shouting now. 

“You wanted me to agree to marry you, but you couldn’t be bothered to think of me as anything but easily frightened and disloyal. Christ, you probably thought I was some simpering maiden who wouldn’t be able to handle the truth, who couldn’t handle the fact that the man she was falling for was a werewolf. Like I’m what, exactly? Weak?” 

“Hermione—”

“Well I have news for  _ you _ , Regulus Black, I’m not weak. I’m Hermione fucking Granger, and if you’d just come to me and  _ told _ me what was going on, I’d have—” 

He moved so quickly I yelped, stumbling backward until I felt a large hand settle at the small of my back, steadying me as he stepped into the room and shut the door firmly behind him. 

“You’d have what?” He leaned in, breathing deeply as I turned my face from him and his nose brushed against my jawline. “Not seen me any differently?”

“Y-yes.”

The sound he made in response was disbelieving but amused, and I felt his lips skate over the skin of my jaw as he spoke again. “You’re kidding yourself.  _ Everyone _ sees my kind differently.”

I wasn’t sure why, but his declaration bothered me. “I’m not everyone,” I retorted haughtily. 

“No.” He was twining a hand in my hair now as he walked me backward toward the sofa. “You’re Hermione fucking Granger.” 

“Exactly.” 

He stopped just short of the seats, one hand in my curls and the other wrapped around my waist as he inhaled again, breathing the scent of me in and waiting, savoring it, before he exhaled once more. 

“I’m sorry,” he said after several more seconds, and he sounded so earnest I felt like I might believe him. “I should have been more… forthcoming. I didn’t want to risk—but it’s no excuse.” 

“It’s not.” 

He kissed my neck, lingering so that I could feel his warm breath against my skin. 

“You deserve honesty.” 

His mouth moved lower.

“I do.” 

I could feel his tongue trailing briefly over my collar bone, and the sensation made me shiver.

“Full disclosure.” 

“Oh god.” 

He’d latched on to a sensitive bit of flesh just below my neck and the next thing I knew was the feel of his hair, thick and silken beneath my hand as I clung to him. 

“I’m sorry,” he said again once his mouth had left my throat. He lifted me effortlessly with just one arm, settling me back to sit on the sofa as he sank down to his knees in front of it. The move put us nearly eye level to one another though he was still the taller between us. “I should have told you before you had to find out that way.” His hands settled on top of my knees and he frowned down at them. “The last thing I wanted was to frighten you.” 

“I wasn’t scared.” 

He glanced up with narrowed eyes, obviously sceptical, and I placed my palms over the backs of his hands atop my knees.

“I wasn’t,” I stressed, “Not really. Not of  _ you _ at least.” 

“I could smell it on you,” he said abruptly, cutting me off before I could continue. “I may not remember everything on full moon nights, but the Wolfsbane lets me keep my head for the most part. You were terrified.” He cleared his throat. “You don’t have to pretend otherwise. I know what I am.” 

I stroked his wrists with my thumbs as he sighed, settling back on his heels until I was looking down at him. His own gaze was focused on his knees.“I wasn’t afraid of  _ you _ ,” I repeated. “I was worried you’d been hurt. I thought—” Merlin, I’d thought he was dying. “I thought you were injured. That you’d been cursed.” 

His shoulders, which had been tense and pulled upward toward his ears, relaxed at my declaration.

“That’s kind of you to say,” he murmured without looking up at me. 

“Oh fuck off with the self-flaggelating bullshit.” 

Regulus’s face jolted upward with preternatural quickness, and his heady grey eyes shifted to shining silver in a heartbeat. “I beg your pardon? I thought you  _ wanted  _ an apology.” 

“An apology, yes, but I’m afraid I don’t have the patience to watch you struggle with whatever hair shirt you think you ought to be wearing. So long as you’re forthright going forward, that is.” 

He let out an exasperated sigh and his gaze searched my face for several moments before locking onto mine. “You are the most infuriating woman.” 

I reached out, cupping one of his cheeks in the palm of my hand and smiling as he shifted into the touch instinctively. “I’ve got a feeling you like that about me,” I said, and his chest rumbled in agreement before he leaned forward and down, resting his bare cheek against my chest. His stubble was rough against soft flesh and his breath warm, sending a flush up toward my face as one of his arms wrapped around my waist. 

“I like everything about you,” he confessed. “The softness of your skin and the way your hair shines in the sun. How delicate you look in the moonlight… Your scent.” His other hand hooked under my thigh, guiding it aside to give him more space between my legs as he kissed the diamond pendant between my breasts. 

“I’m sorry.” He pressed his forehead to my collarbone. 

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, you know.” 

“I feel like I do. When I gave you this, I swore I’d keep you safe.” He fingered the chain of the necklace now, settling back onto his heels until he looked like a supplicant before me. 

“I’m fine,” I said. “Not a hair unaccounted for.” 

“You sure about that?” he asked, and I saw something sly in his features before I felt his grip on the underside of my thigh tighten slightly and then smooth upward. His thumb found the crease between my upper thigh and my sex unerringly and traced it as he leaned in. “I could always check.” 

Merlin, how I reacted for him. I could feel my nipples tighten and my core clench and the little hairs on my arms raise as I broke out in a fevered shiver. It was so visceral, so fervid, that I found myself wondering again in the back of my head just what had prompted Regulus to propose to me in the first place. 

“Reg?”

“Hmm?”

He was kissing the top of my knee now as his thumb found its way beneath my knickers, and I gasped before the rest of the words tumbled out breathlessly.

“Why me?” 

He froze, for a moment, and then he pressed a gentle kiss to my leg before he looked up at me. His irises were still the gleaming silver of the wolf, bright and unearthly and devoted.

“Because you’re mine.”

“Y-yours.” 

He moved so fast I could barely track the movement, and then he was on the couch cushions and I was settled astride his lap. “Yes,” he answered as he tugged aside the fabric of the robe I wore, baring my shoulder completely and then leaning in to give it a gentle kiss. “Mine.” 

“How?”

“I ask the gods that every day.” 

“Regulus—”

He growled softly, his teeth scraping the column of my neck before one of his hands snaked between us and grabbed hold of the black diamond. “Do you know what this means, baby girl?”

My heart was racing in my chest and I struggled to focus on the words as he hardened beneath me. I could feel his arousal now, pressing up through his trousers, solid and thick between my thighs. I couldn’t help but grind against it and he groaned in response, grabbing me by my hips to steady me. 

“It’s like an engagement ring,” I answered, because he seemed intent on not going any further until he’d made his point. 

“It means we belong to each other… That I’d do anything to keep you safe. To make you happy.” 

“That sounds promising,” I teased, and then I gasped as he landed a light, stinging little smack over my hip. 

“This is serious,” he said. 

“I thought your brother was Sirius.” 

Regulus growled and this time my answer was a sharp thrust that dragged his zipper over my sex and made me mewl. “Pay attention, kitten.”

“Kay,” I managed to get out, and then I let myself melt against his chest as he gave another jolting thrust to ensure my compliance. 

“You’re more important to me than anything else in the world, Hermione, and I swore after we met in Madrid—” another thrust and I moaned into his collar. “I swore I’d find a way to keep you safe  _ and _ give you a choice. Understand?”

“Not really— oh fuck, please, do it again.” 

He groaned but shook his head. “Not until I get this out.”

I tried to steady my breaths against his neck but all that got me was the delicious smell of him surrounding me, making me forget anything else existed. 

“Get it out fast,” I said, one hand reaching for his belt. 

“Not  _ that _ . Gods, princess, try to stay focused.”

But I  _ was _ focused. On him. On the way I could feel him pulsing through the fabric between us. On the thickness of his cock and the blazing heat of the skin at his neck. 

“Hermione, love, look at me.” 

I groaned, but I did as he asked, drawing back far enough that I could see his face again. He looked so earnest sitting there, and so pained. 

“You wanted honesty,” he said once my eyes had managed to focus. “And I’m trying here, I swear I am… but if you don’t stop grinding that sweet little pussy against my cock, I’m afraid I’ll have to leave.”

The threat was enough to still my hips, but I pouted all the same. How was it fair that he could be so bloody calm, so contained, so in control while I was sitting here, a near gibbering mess. 

“Daddy—”

“Do you want me to tell you about the third enchantment or not?”

“The third—  _ Oh _ !” The diamond. The mystery spell I hadn’t been able to place… the one he’d carefully avoided giving me a straight answer about when I had brought it up. Suddenly, with the prospect of my curiosity being sated on the horizon, I found it far less difficult to focus. “Do you mean it has something to do with your lycanthropy?” I settled backward, sitting on the tops of his thighs nearer his knees to put a little bit of distance between us as I used my hands on his shoulders to steady myself. “Is that why you were so evasive about it before?”

He chuckled, his grip on my hips loosening as he began to rub small circles with his thumbs near the small of my back. 

“In a manner of speaking,” he answered. 

“If you’re not going to be forthcoming, I may as well go back to—” he stopped me as I tried to scoot forward again. 

“Merlin, you minx. I only mean that I placed the enchantment  _ because _ of the wolf.” 

Curiosity once again piqued, I waited for him to continue. He watched me for further signs of movement with a suspicious gaze for several long seconds before he did so. 

“I wanted you aware,” he said, not meeting my gaze this time. “Before you committed.” 

I frowned. “And yet you proposed before you’d even told me what you—” 

“You misunderstand,” Regulus interrupted. “To the wolf, commitment is more than a contract or a magical bond… It’s physical.” 

“Physical… Do you mean sex?”

I watched as his cheeks flushed and he looked down at his lap between us. “Yes.” 

“So what, the enchantment stops you from fucking me unless I know you’re a werewolf?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“I swear to god, Regulus, if you say that one more time I’ll—”

“Circe’s tits. It’s about  _ consent _ , woman! The wolf has no concept of unwilling compliance. It knows three things. Eat, fuck, and protect. I want you all the bloody time, in every conceivable position or place. I want you whether you want me or not!” His hands on my waist tightened and the pressure was enough to make me arch my back and gasp. “I want to see you riding my cock and begging for my come and taking my—” his eyes widened and his jaw clenched shut tight as his nostrils flared. 

“Your what?” I couldn’t help but ask. 

But he shook his head as if to clear it, his lips pressed into a thin line as he inhaled once, twice… “You belong to me,” he said once he seemed more in control of himself. “And the wolf inside of me— he doesn’t want to give you a choice. He knows you’re ours. He’d do anything to keep you.” 

I shivered, and I couldn’t tell whether it was from fear or from excitement. 

“What about you? What do you want?” I knew the answer already, I thought, but I wasn’t sure that he did. 

“I don’t want anything not freely given,” he answered after several moments, and he gripped the Black Diamond as he spoke, his knuckles brushing over the tops of my breasts. “So I wove your knowing consent into the jewel with my blood. So long as you wear it… All of me is bound. The wolf and the man.”

I looked down at the gem gleaming in the low light against his palm. Even now I could feel the enchantment pulsing around it, could almost fancy that I saw it sparkling in the air, just as warm and as vital as he was. 

“So that’s why we haven’t…” I let my voice trail off, trusting that he would be able to discern the question. 

“Yes.” 

“I thought…” 

“What?” He stroked the small of my back with one large hand and I shrugged. 

“I thought you didn’t want me,” I admitted. 

“Fucking hell. That has  _ never _ been the issue.” He seemed annoyed that I’d ever thought it might be. “I want nothing more.” 

The declaration soothed me, and I leaned into him once more, nuzzling his neck and breathing him in. “In that case,” I said, his stubble rough against my lips as they moved over his cheek. “I know now.” 

Regulus groaned. 

“Not enough,” he gritted out. “Not  _ nearly _ enough, sweetheart.” 

“Christ, what has a girl got to do to get you to fuck her around here?” I reached for his belt again, nipping at his jaw at the same time and feeling delighted when he shivered. 

“Hermione.” There was a warning note in his voice but I ignored it in favor of pulling his belt free and tossing it aside. 

“I know your secret, Regulus Black, and I’m consenting. Where’s the problem?”

“Fuck,” he said, and I felt him grab my wrist. I was about to struggle, to keep him from pulling my hand away, but instead of forcing it up toward his shoulder as I had expected, he pulled it down and then settled it over his cock, warm and massive beneath his trousers. “Here,” he rasped, pressing my hand tight against him. “This is the problem.” 

I chuckled, working open his zipper to try and slip my hand inside. “I promise I can take it.” The palm of my hand found his heated flesh in the next moment, and he hissed between clenched teeth as I began to stroke him. 

“I promise…” He managed as sweat began to bead over his brow, “You probably can’t.” 

“My mouth didn’t have any trouble the other night,” I said, but at the reminder, his eyes flew open, burning bright as his hand on my wrist pulled my arm inexorably upward and away from the throbbing shaft I was begging for. 

“Like hell it didn’t,” he said, and then he was groaning as he leaned toward me and used his other arm to pull me tight against him. “I could have broken you’re fucking jaw.” 

“What are you—” 

“At the end,” he said, rocking his hips gently against mine as he kept me close, not allowing me the access I was so desperate for but letting me feel him all the same. “Gods, you were so eager you didn’t even notice. I love that about you, how absolutely enthralled you are by what we do together.” 

“Reg—” 

“Hush, kitten. You need to let me get this out.” Another jerk against me, and as he freed himself from his trousers I could feel him, impossibly thick against my belly. 

“Have you ever seen wolves fuck before, princess? Do you know what happens between them?”

“I— I—” I couldn’t think, let alone answer, not with him thrusting against my abdomen, spreading my robe open so that his branding flesh was against my own. 

“Let me show you.” I felt him guiding my hand as he spoke, placing it around the base of his shaft as he continued to thrust. Merlin, I could feel a bead of precum at the tip now, tracing a slick wet line somewhere below my breasts as his head bobbed eagerly. 

“Feel how thick I am, baby girl? Feel how you can’t even get your hand around me there?” 

“Uh-huh.” God yes, I felt it. Wanted it.  _ Craved _ it. 

“When I fuck, it gets bigger.” He wrapped his hand around mine, squeezing it tightly and moving it quickly up and then down as he thrust again. “Right here where you’re holding me. It swells and— Oh gods!” 

I was moving my hand of my own accord now, jerking up to the top where he was covered in precum and dragging it back down to make the journey more smooth. 

“I like big,” I confessed as I stroked him, straddling one of his giant thighs now and rubbing myself against it as I worked. 

“Oh princess, you have  _ no _ idea.” 

I didn’t know what he meant, but I didn’t care, not now with my sex sopping and his cock in my hand, pulsing and slick beneath my fingers. I lost track of time while I used him, taking advantage of his rare incoherence to explore every inch of his shaft as I rode his thigh toward climax. 

“I don’t know how you can say no to this,” I whispered in his ear as my hips began to move in a jerking rhythm that was the most natural thing I’d ever done and my hand clenched around the base of him. “All I want is this.  _ You _ . Want to ride your cock, not your thigh. Want to feel you split me wide open and— what the fuck?” 

I lost my grip on his shaft in the next moment as, on the downstroke, I felt something new and rounded and very,  _ very  _ large. 

I looked down just as his orgasm hit and I cried out at both the unexpected climax and the unexpected swelling at the base of his already massive cock. 

Merlin, he hadn’t been exaggerating, and as he spent against my belly, his seed coating the flesh already damp with sweat and precum in hot jets of slick come, I felt one of his hands close around the back of my neck, tilting my face up until I could see directly into his gaze. His eyes were burning bright and silver, shining fiercely as he panted and his cock pulsed against me. 

“This is what you want?” He asked, his voice hoarse as he moved his thigh against my sex and my hand down to feel the swollen knot at the base of his cock. It was rounded and slick and twice the size it had been when we started, and as he shuddered and moved my hand over it, I felt the pulsing between my own thighs hit critical mass. “You want to take  _ this _ inside of you?” 

  
“Oh  _ fuck _ .” I came then, climaxing against his thigh with his impossibly huge cock in my hand and the proof of his desire for me painted across my flesh. And as white light and shuddering breaths overtook me, I thought I wanted it  _ very _ much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter really got out of hand fast. All errors are my own. Thank you, lovely people for all of your reviews on chapter 12. They are basically the blood in my veins right now and made my whole year. <3


	14. Just a bit wider.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, you have no idea how much I have appreciated your comments since I posted the last chapter. I'm sorry for the gap. Mental health is a bitch sometimes. I'm feeling better this week though, and wanted to get something out while I have the gumption. I'm hoping that moving forward things will continue to trend upward. I have a plan and I'm working on establishing routines that include regular writing, which should mean (theoretically) that I will be posting more regularly going forward. Thank you for your patience, and for your comments, which always help to improve my mood. <3 
> 
> NOW GO VOTE IF YOU'RE IN THE US AND ABLE TO DO SO!

We didn’t talk about what had happened after that night. Though in my moments of unfettered pleasure I’d craved what I had seen, in a post-coital haze it had been somewhat more intimidating. Unflagging, even. 

“ _ When you want it bad enough not to get that frightened little look in your eye _ ,” he had said as I’d curled against him, unable to draw my wary gaze from his cock as he’d tilted my chin upward to face him, “ _ When you want it enough to beg for my knot… That’s when I’ll fuck you. _ ”

Heavens, the things the man had said to me. 

_ Continued _ to say to me. 

“Very good, princess. Just a bit wider. Let me see that pretty pussy up close.” 

“Yes, daddy.” 

He’d hooked his hands behind my knees to help me guide them open, and as I felt my folds part, they gripped me just a little tighter. 

“Gods, you’re perfect.” His breath tickled across my exposed flesh, tantalizing me as he leaned in, resting his smooth cheek against my inner thigh and groaning. “I’d like nothing more than to gobble you up.” 

“Please,” I begged, lifting my hips as he wrapped his hands around and pressed down on my knees, keeping my legs in place and not giving me room to do more than that. 

“I’d love to,” he said, and then dropped a kiss to the crease where my sex and my thigh met before sighing. “But you know the rules.” 

I groaned in frustration. “I don’t  _ like _ the rules. They’re terrible.” 

An amused laugh followed by a wicked smirk. “They’re for your own good.” 

“My own good would like to come now please.”

This time he kissed the soft flesh at the top of my vulva before responding. “Patience is a virtue.”

“Fuck that,” I said as I twined my fingers in his hair and pushed him lower until I could feel his nose bumping against my clit and his laughter against deeper, more secret parts of me. I hoped the light kiss he pressed to my centre meant that he had reconsidered his position, but in another moment he was drawing away, using his hands to keep my hips on the carpet as he moved gracefully to stand. 

“Reg—”

“Rules are rules, baby girl. What sort of daddy would I be if I allowed you to disobey them?”

“But I want to—”

He frowned disapprovingly and pressed his index finger to his lips, silencing me more effectively than any charm ever had done. “You’ll come when I’m convinced you’ve thought things through.”

I threw an arm over my eyes, beating the heels of my feet against the floor. The sound echoed in the hallway as I drew my legs back together. Blast him. I hated that he was denying me this. Teasing me, taunting me, and then withdrawing when I thought I’d give anything at all in the world to have his tongue on me, driving me wild in the special way only he ever had. But I couldn’t say I hadn’t been warned. 

After I’d come down from the high of our mutual masturbation several evenings prior, and somewhat recovered from the revelation that was the exceedingly intriguing anatomy he was in possession of, I’d confessed to the quiet desperation I’d felt at my peak. 

_ I think I’d do anything for you when I’m coming, _ I’d said.  _ Think I’d take  _ that _ without blinking _ . 

He had  _ not _ reacted as I’d expected. Instead of enthusiasm, I’d been faced with a quiet concern that had creased the corners of his eyes and drawn a deep furrow between his brows. He hadn’t liked the idea of my accepting him thoughtlessly, or agreeing to something without first considering all of the ramifications. 

Thus the rules.

_ No more until you’re sure _ , he had said.  _ No more orgasms until you’ve had a chance to think things through properly. I don’t want any hasty decisions. _

Merlin, I’d practically hexed myself in the foot. 

“I  _ have _ thought them through,” I said at last, not bothering to move the arm blocking my view as I spoke. “It’s been days. I’ve done the thinking thing.”

Regulus hummed, a humoring sound if I’d ever heard one, and I had the sudden urge to kick him in the ankle. 

“What?” I dropped my arm, pushing up until I was resting on my elbows and scowling up at him. “You think I’m not capable of making an informed decision?” 

He looked half bored and half amused as he leaned against the nearby wall, his shoulder blades thunking heavily against it and rattling a sconce several feet away. “I think it’s a big decision.” 

“One I’m not equipped to make for myself?” 

“That isn’t what I said.” 

“And yet it’s what you implied.” 

He sighed. “If you think this tantrum is going to change my mind, baby girl, you’ve another thing coming.” 

I dropped my head back to glare at the ceiling. “Well, at least  _ something’s _ coming.” 

He laughed aloud, the sound rich and warm, reverberating through the hall. I could almost feel it in the air as I let my eyes close and inhaled. I could still smell him, the scent lingering above me where he’d been, seeing fit to tease and titillate me, but not to see me to completion. 

The nerve. 

Of course… I  _ was _ a modern woman, and before Regulus Black had horned his way into my life, I’d never needed a man to finish quite nicely indeed. 

“Fine,” I said, settling back down onto the carpet and freeing my hands to rest on my bare belly. “Have it your way.” I closed my eyes as his laughter quieted and he inhaled sharply by the wall. “I’ll do it myself.” 

The hands on my stomach moved smoothly over my skin, almost as if of their own accord. It was familiar, this pattern they traced from the tops of my thighs up to my breasts and down again. A dance I’d known the steps to for a very long time, one I’d practiced in the dark beneath my sheets and behind the curtains of a four-poster bed. It was as easy as flirting.  _ Easier _ . 

“Hermione.” His voice rumbled through the narrow hall, a warning that brought a smile to my lips. 

“Daddy?” I let my fingers wander further south, brushing against the neat curls between my thighs and shivering at the sensation. This was good. Not as thrilling as the things  _ he _ did to me… but with his gaze so near and his voice sending delicious tremors down my spine, it did the trick. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” 

“I think that’s fairly obvious.” I let my legs spread, slipping a finger between the lips of my sex as I brought delicious pressure down over the top of my mound with the heel of my hand. “Oh.” 

“Gods.” He shifted where he stood, his clothing rustling before I heard another thunk against the plaster of the wall and looked to see him with his back to me, his forehead beside the sconce.

I smiled, though I knew he couldn’t see me, and tilted my hips, dipping my exploring finger fully into myself and drawing it back out, wet with my arousal, to swirl around the hood of my clit. His shoulders tensed, and I wondered if he could smell it from all the way over there. I wondered whether he liked it. 

“Would you like a taste?” I asked, knowing full well what his answer would be but hoping against hope that he would falter. I dipped two fingers in, drawing them out again and running them op my slit before moving that same hand to my breasts. “You like the taste, don’t you?”

He turned, a pained expression on his face as his silver eyes locked on my hand, as he watched me pinch my nipple once and then roll it between my fingers, back arched. “You know I do.” 

“You can have all you like,” I offered, my other hand between my legs now, rubbing over the flesh above my clit, giving myself the lovely indirect pressure that built me up so nicely. 

He growled again, and the sound shot straight through me, making me wetter and sending a tingling from my cunt, up my spine to the base of my neck where it lingered as my nipples pebbled. Merlin, but the sound of his voice, deep and guttural and out of his control with desire for me, was a thing of beauty. It told me everything I needed to know about this ridiculous rule he’d instituted, and about how badly he wanted to ignore it. How badly he wanted  _ me _ . 

“I’ve thought about it, you know,” I said, sounding breathless even to my own ears as I moved both hands back down to my sex and spread it open. It was an invitation for him to look, and he took it without any argument. His gaze fell, heavy and demanding, against my flesh as his hands fisted at his sides before he crossed his arms over his chest and let out a shaky breath.

“Thought about what, kitten?”

“Your knot.” Honestly, I’d been able to think about little else. 

“Have you?” 

“Oh yes.” I traced circles around my clit as I spoke, lingering on the sensitive spot to the left of it with every revolution. “I fantasized about it this morning in bed before I came here.” My breath caught as I quickened my pace. 

“Fantasy and reality often diverge.” 

I shook my head, dipping two fingers down into my core and relishing the whimper I thought I heard come from him at the sight. “Not for me,” I protested, forcing myself to keep my gaze steady on him. “I like it big.” 

He swallowed, and I watched as his Adam's apple bobbed. “Not this big, princess.” 

I slipped a third finger in, my eyes shutting tight at the sensation and my shoulders pressing hard against the carpet as my lower back arched and my hips tilted. 

“I think I’d like it,” I said, withdrawing my fingers only to pump them back in again. And again. And again. “Do you like it, Daddy? Watching me fuck myself?” 

This time he growled so loud it echoed down the hall, but the sound only spurred me on. 

“I can take more,” I panted, scrambling for a fourth finger, aching to prove myself to him. 

“Fuck.” In the next moment, he was on the floor beside me in a blur of motion and black fabric, his hand encasing my wrist and drawing it up in a grip so large and so powerful it would have taken more strength than I had to refuse him. “Stop it, baby.” 

“But—” 

“I can’t take anymore,” he said, and it sounded like a plea. “Can’t watch you touch that pretty cunt and not take it.” 

I raised my free hand, damp with my arousal, and pressed it to his cheek. He inhaled, turning his stubbled jaw to kiss my palm and then licking a line from the center up toward the tip of my middle finger with a groan. 

“You can have me,” I told him. “I want it.” 

He whined at the declaration, and somehow the sound of masculine distress only egged me on. 

“Can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to take you.  _ All _ of you. How thick you’d feel and how deep you’d go. God, I’d probably be able to feel you come inside of me… and with your knot… Merlin, I probably wouldn’t even lose a drop.” 

“Hermione—” 

“I want that. Crave it. Want to feel split wide open on your cock.”

“Enough, princess.” 

“Want you so deep and so hard I’ll feel it for a week. Till I’m full of you and can’t live without your—” 

The rest of my words were muffled beneath his hand as he settled it over my mouth, big and broad and smelling faintly of good tobacco and cloves. My eyes widened at the sensation of it, at how very easily he overpowered me and how very much I liked it. 

“I said enough,” he bit out, his jaw tense and his teeth clenched as his other hand released my wrist and settled between my thighs, heavy and hot and immediately giving me what I’d been begging for. 

My eyes rolled back in my head. 

“What do you think you’re doing, tempting me?” His voice was so deep and rough I could barely make out the words, so resonant I could feel it in my chest as he rumbled into my ear. “You think you’re going to win? Going to make me go back on my word?” 

His hand was moving so fast I had to shout out behind his palm, rubbing up and down over my mound, putting so much pressure I could feel my thighs beginning to tense of their own accord. 

“Well, this isn’t a game, kitten. This isn’t a level playing field. I’m in charge, you understand?” He increased the pressure over my clit, his whole hand moving so rapidly I screamed. “You come when I say you come, and you get my cock when I say you get my cock, not a second before.” 

Fuck, I was close, and as he dipped two fingers into my sopping wet core, my eyes rolled back in my head. 

But then, more quickly than he’d begun, he was gone. I reeled, eyes blinking rapidly and heart thundering in my chest until I realized he was on his feet again, that he was pulling  _ me _ to my feet as well. 

“Reg—” 

“Rules are rules,” he panted as he steadied me, summoning my cloak wandlessly and then draping it over my shoulders as I stood there, completely dumbfounded. “And you have more thinking to do.” 

“But—” 

“No buts. If you want this, you’ll take the time to think it through.” He clasped my cloak and drew it closed over my front, breathing deeply as his gaze locked onto my neck. He winced, and then looked back up at me, meeting my eyes with his. “Do this for me,” he said, his voice a gentle rasp now. “Give it time.” 

I didn’t want to agree. I wanted to fall back on the floor and finish what he’d started, wanted to watch him lose his senses completely and come undone above me… but there was something about the way he said it that seemed more like a desperate request than an order, and I couldn’t deny him. 

“How much longer?” I asked instead, focusing on my feet as he sighed with relief and walked me down the hall, collecting random bits of my clothing along the way. 

“A week,” he said, and I dug my heels stubbornly and literally into the carpet. 

“A  _ week _ !?” 

He rumbled in response and I shook my head, trying to drag myself out of his grip and failing spectacularly. “I’m not waiting a bloody week just because you—”

“Does everything have to be difficult with you?” 

“You’re just picking arbitrary numbers out of the air and—”

“I’m trying to protect you!” 

“From your cock? Rather high opinion of yourself there.”

“Hang on a minute, I’m—you saw!” 

“Women are made to stretch, you dim-witted—” 

“In childbirth, not on— Hang on. Did you just call me dim-witted?”

I scowled at him, grabbing the small pile of clothes he’d collected from his arms and pulling them against my chest in a fit of pique.

“Yes,” I said, “And I’ll call you a lot worse things if you make me wait an entire week to fuck you properly.”

He let out a strangled sort of noise, half scream half growl as he whirled around, turning his back on me and stalking away for several steps before turning back and pointing a finger in my direction. 

“Come to Spain with me,” he practically shouted. 

“I will not— wait, what?”

“Spain,” he repeated through gritted teeth, his chest heaving. “Come with me. Tomorrow.” His jaw twitched. “On holiday.” 

“Holiday,” I echoed. 

“If you come I’ll… I’ll rethink the rules.” 

_ Holiday _ .  _ Spain _ ?

“I can’t just— I have reports and…” The excuses died on my lips as something in his gaze shifted. It was as if… as if he’d expected me to reject the invitation. I couldn’t help but think that expectation made him look very much like a wounded puppy. 

“Alright,” I said after several more moments. “Fine. Spain. On holiday.” 

The look of surprise on his features was worth the thoughtless commitment, and I almost forgot in the elation of seeing a slow smile spread across his features, that he’d left me wanting. Almost, but not quite. 

“You’ll abolish the rules though. The moment we land in Spain, orgasms are back on the menu.” 

He frowned, but I could see one corner of his mouth twitching. 

“Agreed.” 

“And Regulus?” 

“Hmm?”

I raised my chin and rolled my shoulders back until my spine was as straight as a pin, then I walked past him, not bothering to look back. “I’ll expect interest as well.” 

He chuckled as I disappeared around the end of the hall. 

*****

The air of my flat was unexpectedly warm as I arrived through the floo. I hadn’t bothered to dress again before leaving, but I’d wrapped the cloak Regulus had draped over my shoulders tight around my body before I’d stepped through, anticipating the chill of an empty room on the other end. The warmth was a pleasant surprise though, so I dropped the bundle of clothes I carried onto the nearest surface (a small table beside the fireplace) and made my way through the room toward the hall. The fire I had thought I’d banked before leaving twinkled merrily behind me still, explaining the lack of cool air as I let my cloak loosen and reached for the clasp at my neck.

“Not that I wouldn’t enjoy the view, darling, but I think you’d hex me if I let you undress with Sirius here.” 

I stumbled as the person spoke, stubbing my toe against a rug and yelping as I hurtled forward and barely caught myself on the doorframe. My cloak gaped wide in front of me and I scrambled to clutch it tight again before whirling around. 

The pair sat on my sofa, one lounging with his leg propped up on my coffee table and the other sitting with her back straight as a pin and her feet tucked neatly at the floor beneath the seat. 

“Pansy! What are you—How did you get in here?” 

“What? As if it’s difficult? Your wards are dismal.” Pansy sniffed and tilted her chin up, her eyes sparkling. 

“It took her nearly two hours to get in,” Sirius supplied beside her, settling a large hand over her knee and giving it a squeeze that made me want to avert my gaze. Pansy only raised a wine glass to her lips and smirked. 

“Is that mine or did you bring your own?” I asked. 

Sirius raised his own glass in my direction. “Thought you might not mind. Lovely vintage. It’s not often I get the Muggle stuff.” 

I sighed, feeling my cheeks warm as I pulled my cloak more firmly about myself. 

“What are you two doing here?”

Pansy set her glass aside and stood, looking elegant in her knee-length skirt and elaborate blouse. Merlin, she was even wearing stilettos heels that might as well have been the length of my wand. 

“Waiting for you, of course. I’m afraid we’ve been having trouble receiving post at the manor lately, and none of your owls have made it through the past few days. I thought I’d check in.” 

My brow furrowed in confusion. “Pansy, I haven’t sent any owls.” 

The other woman’s gaze narrowed and gleamed with a wicked sort of triumph as Sirius sniggered in his seat, the sound amplified by the glass he’d just finished emptying. 

“Just as I suspected. You horrid, unfaithful slag.” 

“Pansy, what are you—”

“We’re supposed to be  _ friends _ , Granger!” Pansy looked genuinely upset as she set her hands on her hips and glared down at me from her full height, making me feel very small and underdressed indeed. 

“We  _ are _ friends, what are you on about?” I spotted my clothes still sitting on the other side of the room and felt every inch as naked as I was beneath the cloak that covered me. 

“Are we?” Pansy was sounding shrill now. “Because friends  _ share things _ , Granger. They  _ tell each other _ when important events occur.” 

“I do tell you—”

“And  _ best _ friends share their secrets, godsdammit!” Pansy’s voice was raised now to an obscene level and I felt my heart racing in my chest as she advanced toward me, her long legs covering nearly double the distance my shorter ones did as I backed out toward the hall. 

“Why are you shouting at me?!” 

“Why are  _ you _ shouting?!” Pansy returned. “I’m the one who’s upset!” 

“I’m not shouting!” My back hit a door and I realized I’d made it to my room. 

“You should have told me, Hermione!” 

“I don’t have any idea what you’re—”

“But I had to hear it from Sirius. Sirius!” 

She’d gone mad. Her eyes were wide and she was still advancing and I was honestly a tiny bit afraid she would hex me, I opened the door and slipped into my bedroom before she could reach me, turning to shut the door as quickly as possible, but not before Pansy had managed to stick her foot between the door and the frame. 

“Do you know how embarrassing that was for me?!” She shrieked. 

I gave the door up for a lost cause and ran instead to the opposite side on my bed as Pansy shoved the door open and entered the room in all of her exquisite rage. 

“Pan’s calm down, for Circe’s sake. I’ve no idea what you’re even going on about.” I tried to sound calm, hoping that if I spoke to her like I’d spoken to the Hippogriffs at school, she’d take pity on me and tell me what the hell had gotten her into such an unholy snit. 

“The hell you don’t. Anything _big_ happened to you lately, Granger? Any _huge_ news you’ve had and forgotten to share with your best friend? Any _hairy_ situations you’ve gotten yourself into and neglected to take three seconds to send an owl about?” 

My eyes widened and my jaw dropped open as Pansy puffed up her chest and crossed her arms and stared down her delicate nose at me from across the bed. 

“Had a  _ howling _ good time you didn’t trust me enough to tell me about?” 

How the hell did she know? I spotted a robe on the bed and reached for it, rather than looking up at the towering pillar of rage that had once been my best friend. 

Pansy snatched it away before I could even touch it. 

“Is that all you have to say for yourself, you ungrateful, disloyal—” 

“How did you even  _ hear _ about—” 

“I‘m shagging his brother, Granger! Men  _ talk _ after a good fucking, not that I’d expect someone like  _ you  _ to understand what it takes to reduce a man to a mass of disconnected brain cells and spilled secrets.” 

Now that pricked. I was reminded suddenly that Pansy had been not just a Slytherin when we’d been at school… she’d been  _ the _ Slytherin. 

“I—” Merlin, I couldn’t even think what to say. I hadn’t spoken to anyone but Regulus about what had happened at Blackgate Hall under the full moon, and even he had had to drag it from me.

“Bloody hell, are you going to cry?” Pansy sounded disgusted, and I shook my head as I felt my eyes beginning to sting. 

“No, of course not. That would be…”

“Uncouth,” Pansy supplied. But she seemed to shrink by several inches at the word and the venom had gone from her voice as she huffed. 

“Get dressed, Granger,” she said, tossing the robe she’d grabbed at me and watching as I caught it in one hand. “I expect a full accounting of your failings as a friend when you return to the salon.” 

“Pans—” 

She left before I could say anything else.

  
  



	15. Sirius, shove off. Hermione’s going to sit there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, Pansy is my favorite character and based off of my two best friends, and I'm gonna cry if you keep criticizing her. (Joking! Mostly.) Legit though, I hope you all have or get good Slytherin friends who are slightly insecure and use insults as their love language and are there for you no matter what. <3

Pansy Parkinson liked to act like a Basilisk, but at heart, she was nothing more than a Garter Snake. I would never have made the comparison to  _ her _ of course, but the three non-Slytherins in our friend group all knew the truth about her, and I was reminded of it as I sidled—fully dressed at last—into the living room. 

“There you are,” she said, spotting me. “I poured you a glass while we waited. Sirius, shove off. Hermione’s going to sit there.” 

The elder Black brother stood without complaint, moving to sit in the armchair nearer the fire as Pansy patted the now-vacated seat at her side and motioned for me to join her.

“Now then,” she said, handing me the nearly full glass of red wine as she tucked her conspicuously bare feet up behind her on the couch. “Tell me everything.” 

I didn’t know where to begin, so I took a long sip of wine, which turned into another, and another, until I was forced to admit that Sirius had been right and this  _ was _ a good vintage and my cheeks were a bit warmer and I could feel the heat of the drink settling in my stomach. 

“So you know he’s a—um.” I faltered. 

“A werewolf,” Sirius supplied, not a question, a statement.

“Skip the boring bits,” said Pansy. “Sirius already shared those.”

“It’s not boring,” I protested. 

Pansy arched one of her perfectly manicured brows at me. “It’s certainly not as interesting now that I’m the last to hear.” 

“I haven’t told  _ anyone _ ,” I said. “It wasn’t my place.” And I hadn’t thought to, distracted as I had been by my thoughts and worries and feelings I couldn’t shake. 

“Might have told me,” Pansy sniffed. “It’s not as if I’m a Malfoy, running my mouth all over the tabloids every chance I get.” 

Across the room, Sirius faked a gag. “Imagine you, a Malfoy,” he said, waggling one dark brow. “Does my baby cousin even know where to put the pointy end?” 

“He does,” said Pansy just as I said, “Sure does,” and Sirius cringed. 

“And if I’m being honest,” Pansy continued, a wicked-looking glint in her eye now. “He’s at least twice as skilled as you are. No offense.” 

Sirius growled, and I wondered before he spoke whether that was a Black Family trait and not a lycanthropic one as I had assumed. 

“Full offense taken,” he said, his voice raspy as he eyes Pansy and I felt suddenly like an intruder in my own home.

“Should I leave the two of you alone?” I asked, averting my eyes. 

“What?” Pansy looked back at me, her expression practically sparkling now before she shook her head. “Nonsense. Now, from the beginning.”

And then my brain froze in my skull. I hadn’t even imagined a conversation like this, hadn’t thought Sirius would know. Was it Regulus who had told him I’d discovered the truth? How long had Sirius known? I remembered the dinner at Grimmauld Place suddenly and realized  _ that _ was when he’d discovered the truth—not all that long before I had in the scheme of things. And he’d told Pansy. Had Regulus known? Would he be upset his brother had shared the information with his lover? It wasn’t as if he was exactly open about his condition like Remus Lupin or Lavender Brown had been. Should I even discuss it openly here with them? 

My stomach felt in knots as I considered the ramifications, but as I imagined discussing all of my thoughts and worries about what I had learned openly with someone who gave a damn about me… It settled into a serene stillness I hadn’t felt since the full moon. 

“I don’t know how I missed it,” I said at last, the words coming out in a rush. “In retrospect it was obvious, but I was so wrapped up in… Well, in the carnal, that I overlooked every indication. I feel like an idiot.” 

Sirius snorted. “Had a lot of experience being intimate with werewolves, have you? Experienced the ecstasy before?” 

Pansy’s brows snapped together, her canines showing as she gave Sirius a dirty look. “I beg your pardon? Ecstasy? If you hope to get a rise out of me with—” 

He cut Pansy off with a sharp glance and she bit her lip. “You’ve made it clear I only get half as much a rise out of you as Draco anyway,” he snapped. 

“I can’t help if Draco’s twice the size of—”

“Another word Pansy and I’ll—” 

“What?” Pansy asked, her eyes were sparkling again, and I was reminded of arguments she’d had with Harry at school. Gryffindor’s of the male persuasion had never been a match for her. “You’ll spank me?” 

Sirius swallowed, his grey eyes dark as storm clouds now and his Adam’s apple bobbing as he scowled. 

“Do I really need to be here for this conversation?” I interjected before he could respond.

Sirius’s gaze flicked toward me for a second before his whole body seemed to relax and he leaned back in his chair, arms draped over the sides and his legs sprawled out in front of him as if he hadn’t a care in the world. 

“Don’t be a prude, Granger,” said Pansy archly as she adjusted her skirt over her legs and studiously avoided looking at the man currently piercing her with his gaze. “Besides, from what I’ve heard, you and your lupine friend are just as liberated as the rest of us.”

What she’d  _ heard _ ? I glanced back at Sirius, who was watching Pansy with a delighted, feral look now. “He— did he tell you about what we—” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the question, and Pansy laughed. 

“I’m talking about your first meeting with the man,” she trilled, lifting her glass toward me in a salute and then taking a sip as my heart rate slowed a little. “The marathon of cunnilingus he gave you for your birthday.” She turned her gaze back toward Sirius with another smirk as I blushed. “A feat you’ve yet to accomplish, I’ll add.” 

“You haven’t earned it,” answered Sirius mildly. 

Pansy tutted and then looked back to me. “Although now I’m interested,” she said. “What is it you were so worried dear Regulus might have told us?” She arched a brow, grinning wickedly in the process and leaning forward to eye me speculatively. “What is it you two get up to when you’re locked away at that manor with only each other for company?”

I swallowed and shifted uncomfortably in my seat. “There’s Kreacher too.” 

“Blech,” Sirius practically winced as he glared in my direction. “Way to ruin the mood.”

“Merlin, Hermione. You involve the house elf!?” Pansy sounded shocked and my eyes widened. 

“What? No!”

“Then why would you even bring him into the conversation?” Sirius still sounded disgusted.

“I was only saying we don’t only have one another for company! Your minds are filthy, honestly.” 

“That tosser’s no sort of company,” Sirius argued. 

“He’s not a—” 

“Look, we’ve gotten  _ completely  _ off the point,” Pansy interrupted. “Now, do you, or do you not, have feral sex with the fairer Black brother?”

Sirius looked offended again and huffed, rolling his eyes as he crossed his arms and looked purposefully away from Pansy.

“N-No.” 

“You hesitated! What are you keeping from me?”

I blinked. It was as if a montage of all the many interludes between Regulus and I played in seconds in my brain. We weren’t technically fucking… but I couldn’t say we weren’t having  _ some _ sort of sex. Feral or otherwise.

“Hermione!” Pansy’s agitation had reached a fever pitch, and there was a wildness in her eyes that terrified me just the slightest bit as she leaned forward, her half-full glass of wine tipping and sloshing a bit of red liquid onto the carpet as she neglected it. 

“Alright, fine,” I said, swallowing and looking down at my hands in my lap. “We— well, we haven’t had intercourse but we’ve done… most of the rest.” 

“We’d gathered,” said Sirius dryly, and my cheeks and my neck grew hot again. 

“We’re both adults,” I said, avoiding looking at the man. “And with what you and Pansy get up to, I hardly think you are one to judge what we—” 

“Circe’s bonnet, we’re not judging you,” Pansy interrupted. “Well, I  _ am _ judging you, but only for not fucking him already and accepting his damned proposal.” 

“I imagine she’s intimidated by his unique anatomy,” said Sirius, and I felt every ounce of blood drain from my face as Pansy turned to face him with a raised brow. 

“His… anatomy?”

“Oh my god.” I covered my face with my hands, blocking out the room around me as my stomach tied itself into knots and then sank down to my toes. 

Opposite us, Sirius chuckled. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, Hermione. Anyone who's dated a werewolf has been where you are now. Well, anyone who’s dated a male.” 

“What do you mean about his anatomy?” Pansy sounded excited as she asked the question, and I shook my head behind my hands as Sirius answered. 

“It’s… well, it’s quite a bit larger than average.” 

I dared to peek out from behind my hands and Pansy’s eyes were sparkling as she turned them back toward me. “How much larger?” she asked. 

I swallowed, trying, and failing to get my voice to work. 

“Depends on the man, I’ve been told,” Sirius answered. “Remus was on the larger end of average until the act… and then—” He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect. “The knot.”

“Oh my gods.” Pansy sounded shocked and delighted, and as she turned back to me… expectant. “Spill.” 

“I don’t know what to say,” I answered after a moment, my voice higher pitched than normal. 

“How big is it?” she asked. 

I glanced toward Sirius, hoping he would interject or  _ object _ to a discussion of his brother’s cock, but he seemed perfectly content with what he had wrought. 

“It’s… large,” I confessed at last, keeping my voice low enough that Sirius would have to strain to hear. 

“I’d gathered,” said Pansy dryly. “Like… bludger sized?” 

“Jesus Christ, Pansy.” My eyes bulged practically out of my head. “No.” 

Sirius laughed. “Bout the size of one of our head posts, I’d imagine.” 

“Merlin,” Pansy breathed. “That big?” 

Sirius shrugged “Remus wasn’t quite, but he was smaller than me. I imagine the size depends on the size of the shaft beforehand.” 

Pansy looked back at me, and I imagined that my face was on fire, the flames licking over the skin of my cheeks and forehead. 

“You’ll have to let me know how  _ that _ goes,” she said, laughing as she leaned past me and grabbed the empty wine glass and the bottle they’d opened before pouring me a fresh serving. “Take this, you look like you need it.” 

I swallowed half the glass down in a few seconds and then blinked up at her. She looked amused… but beneath it, I could read the concern in her expression. 

“I’m fine,” I said. “It’s… I don’t mind. When we’re… together.” 

The tightness around Pansy’s mouth eased and she smiled broadly. “I should think not.” She sipped from her own glass. “What has you concerned then?” 

It was a good question. One worth examining. Knowing Regulus was a lycanthrope wasn’t something that worried me. I knew how it was passed from person to person, how to prevent the spread, and that it didn’t make him any less of a wizard than any of the men I’d dated in the past. Hell, the things that excited me about him… the way his eyes shifted with his mood, the deep growl that rumbled against my throat when he kissed me, the possessive way his gaze devoured me… those might even be courtesy of the wolf aspects of his nature… But that might not be all. 

I had never understood why Regulus had chosen me. There’d been more than one young woman to approach him before I had, and he hadn’t spared them more than a glance… but me? God, me he’d taken up to a penthouse and bloody worshipped. Me, he’d sent a family heirloom and a proposal I hadn’t understood until it had been explained. And he  _ still _ wanted me. Nothing I’d said or done, no amount of verbal rejection had turned him away. No amount of hesitation on my part had made him doubt his choice. 

And that was it, wasn’t it? His unerring focus. His devotion. His  _ certainty _ . That was what had me so concerned. 

“I think… Pans, I think I’m his mate.” 

I wasn’t sure why my eyes stung as I said it, but the room grew a little bleary as I blinked and glanced around it. 

Her voice sounded different when she responded… patient. “And what’s so wrong with that?”

“What’s— Pansy, if I’m his— If his biology is what’s driving him, then where’s  _ his _ choice in the matter? If it’s the wolf pushing him toward me, making him think I’m desirable or worthy or… What if I’m not what he  _ really  _ wants?”

“That’s the biggest load of thestral shite I’ve ever heard,” said Sirius, standing now and setting his own glass down with a thunk on the coffee table. “Lycanthropy isn’t just biological, it’s  _ magical _ , and so matehood is both as well. It’s not just your biology that would have to be compatible, but your magic as well.” 

“Be that as it may—” I tried, but he wouldn’t allow me to interrupt, pressing on as if I hadn’t said a word. 

“Your  _ magic _ , he repeated. “The essence of who you are as a witch. Mortals call it a soul, the part of themselves they can’t explain, the piece that lives on when they die.  _ That _ is what a werewolf can sense in their mate. It calls to them.” There was a faraway look in Sirius’s eye as he spoke, a seriousness that she’d rarely seen in the man before.

“How do you—” 

“He was in love with one,” Pansy said, “And it ended when Remus met  _ his _ mate.” 

“Pretty little Irish thing. Small cock though, from what I’ve heard.”

“Compared to you, that’s saying something,” said Pansy, giving Sirius a warm, intimate look as she spoke that made me avert my gaze to give them some sort of privacy. Sirius chuckled, and I felt the sofa shift as Pansy rose to her feet beside me and went to him. They settled back into the chair opposite me together, with Pansy on his lap, nuzzling his neck and whispering in his ear as he smiled. It was as if they’d entered their own world, and as they focused on one another, I let myself think about what Sirius had said. 

Perhaps I  _ had _ had the wrong idea about what the concept of a mate meant. Hell, I might not even  _ be _ Regulus’s. Maybe he was just impulsive and mad and choosing me had been a whim. He certainly hadn’t  _ said _ anything about matehood. Of course… the way I’d reacted to a sudden marriage proposal might have had something to do with any hesitancy on his part. If I was his mate, that was.

“Hermione?”

“Hmm?”

When I looked back up, pansy was reclining on Sirius’s lap, her head resting just beneath his chin as his hands clasped over her ribcage, keeping her close. 

“You’re wrong if you think we’re done discussing this,” she said. 

And instead of dread or embarrassment, I felt relief. Maybe talking about it was just what I needed. 

“Okay,” I said. “So he’s invited me on holiday. To Spain. Tomorrow.” I paused for effect. “I’ve said yes.” 

Pansy practically cackled. 

*****

Though I was familiar with Spain and had spent countless summers there in my family’s Hacienda, I marveled as I stepped away from the apparition point, Regulus close on my heels. The crowd around me was teeming and vibrant and completely magical--nothing like what I had experienced in the past. Sure, I had gone to the odd wizarding club in Madrid, but I’d never sought out a wizarding community the likes of which I’d known in Britain. Logically, I had known that Spain must have its own, but knowing and  _ seeing _ , it seemed, were two entirely different things. 

“Where are we?” I breathed, taking in the salt air and the muggy heat all around me. I adjusted my collar. I’d dressed for cooler weather than this. Even in Spain, it was the end of October. “And why is it so hot?”

“San Caliban.” Regulus stood close behind me as I paused, taking in the boardwalk and the milling people all around, chattering happily as they bypassed us and barely sparing us a glance. “The beach is heavily enchanted to keep the season peak. It’s a destination.”

“You might have warned me,” I teased, unbuttoning my blouse down to the top of my sternum and slipping my cardigan off and over one arm. Without saying a word, Regulus took it from me, tucking it over his and grabbing hold of my elbow. 

“This way,” he said, guiding me through the crowd. 

I watched as we passed groups of witches and wizards, dressed in everything from bikinis to full wizarding robes (though those who wore them looked just as uncomfortable as I had upon first arriving). Vendors sold turns on enchanted surfboards and skiffs alongside seafood meals I’d never heard of before. By the time we reached the end of the boardwalk, I’d spotted at least six different activities I’d be thrilled to give a go and I was clinging to Regulus’s arm with an eager excitement I hadn’t anticipated. 

“I didn’t realize there would be so much to do,” I said as we reached a little stone path just above the sandy and crowded beach. 

Regulus smirked. “What were you expecting? A holiday spent locked in my bedroom?”

I nodded with a blush. “Maybe I’d hoped for something like that.”

“Privacy?” he asked. 

“Ideally.” 

“Here we are.” We stopped short as he spoke and I stared, puzzled, in the direction he gestured. 

“In an alley?” 

He chuckled and shook his head. “At Casa Sirena. My beach house.” 

And when I looked up again I could see an iron gate, lightly coated with sea salt and decorated by shells. Regulus opened it without another word and gestured for me to follow. The path had appeared out of nowhere, lined by low lying greenery and bright flowers all the way up to the charming house front. 

“Oh,” I said. 

Regulus smiled, his hand sparking against the door handle as the wards read his signature and admitted him. “Come,” he said, guiding me into the house as I observed it all, awestruck. 

It was beyond charming. The beach theme was distinctly Spanish, and the colors tasteful and calming as he led me further into the house, all the way through the living room and toward an open arch that led onto a deck. 

“Oh my.” The view was brilliant. It was the same beach we’d walked on minutes before, but empty. The sun shone and the water glistened and gulls called over the ocean. The breeze ruffled my hair. “It’s beautiful.” 

As I spoke, I felt Regulus behind me, his large frame drawing nearer until he was wrapping his arms around my waist and his broad chest was pressed to my back. 

“And private,” he rumbled, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke. 

“Yes, that’s a definite plus.” 

His mouth wandered lower, over the shell of my ear and down to the sensitive spot on my neck he’d already grown intimately familiar with. There, he kissed me, and then breathed in deeply. The small act made me shiver, not in fear, but in anticipation. 

“Gods,” he moaned. “I can’t get enough of the scent of you.” 

“O-oh?” 

“Mm.” His chest rumbled as his hands traveled up my ribs, working the buttons of my blouse open down to my waist where it remained tucked into the top of my slacks. “You smell so good. Like peaches and cream…” he took another deep breath. “Honey…” Another breath and he groaned. “Ripe. Merlin, Hermione, I can smell your pretty cunt already. Is this all it takes to make you wet for me?” 

I laid my head back over his shoulder, baring my throat to him, and at his growl, I knew it had been the right move. 

“Fuck, princess,” he said, his teeth scraping along the column of my neck for a moment as one large hand slipped beneath my top and pulled down the cup of my bra until my breast spilling into his palm. Immediately, his fingers found my nipple, brushing it softly until I gasp and then pinching it deftly and rolling it to make my back arch. 

“Regulus,” I whimpered, trying and failing to turn in the circle of his arms as he kept me pinned, my shirt gaping open on the deck as we looked out over the empty beach. The warm breeze brushed over my bared skin as he pulled down the other cup, exposing that breast to his free hand. 

“Isn’t this what you wanted?” he teased, the stubble on his jaw scraping over the skin where the column of my neck met my shoulder. “You wanted me to make you come, didn’t you? It was your condition for being here if I recall.”

“Yes,” I breathed. “But all you’re doing is teasing.” I struggled again and he chuckled, pinching one nipple sharply and making me hiss in a breath as his other hand trailed down to the waistband of my slacks and started working open the buttons. 

“You asked for interest didn’t you?” 

“Reg— Oh god.” He found my clit so fast I thought he might have used a locator charm before my mind was filled completely with pleasure and my knees went weak until the only thing keeping my upright was his hand cupping my sex and his arm hitched around my ribs. 

“What is it, baby girl? Don’t you like the feel of me making you come?” Two of his fingers circled my clit as he spoke, steady circles, and direct pressure that drove me mad and made me reach down to still his hand. 

“None of that,” he said, sounding disapproving as he drew my hands away and continued to touch me. “You  _ wanted _ this, kitten. You  _ begged _ for it. What sort of man would I be if I left you wanting. Now…” He lightened his touch, pinning my wrists to my chest as he barely stroked over the very tip of my clit, back and forth and back and forth until my hips bucked of their own accord. “You’re going to be a good girl and come for me here. Do you understand? And then I’m going to lay you down right here on the deck and make you come at least twice more before I do anything else.” 

“Oh fuck, Daddy, please. It’s too… too…” I lost my train of thought as he gave me more pressure, moved faster over the hood of my clit now, flicking it until my toes were curling into the wood beneath my feet.

His teeth grazed my shoulder, biting softly before he groaned and broke away, pressing his forehead to the spot instead and panting. “Tell me you’ll come for me, sweetheart. Promise you’ll do as you’re told.” 

“Yes. Anything!” 

His next stroke against my sex was firm and steady and it drew me out to the edge, my whole body strung taut as he waited for the space of several heartbeats before he did it again. 

This time, I pulsed hard against him and tensed, my whole body jerking against his as he smiled against my back and kept the pressure steady. 

“There,” he said, “There it is. Give it to me. Do you hear me? I want all of it. Don’t you dare try and keep anything from me.” 

I couldn’t have done anything else. My whole body spasmed for a moment, caught like a pixie in a trap against him, his body pinning mine where he wanted it as his hand drew every last ounce of pleasure I had to give from me. I detonated. 

“Oh my—” I gasped, shrieking in the next breath as he sped up the pace of hand on my clit while I climaxed, the torture an exquisite agony that kept me spiraling as I clawed sat his hand and shouted out over the balcony. It was so much.  _ Too _ much. It just kept going and going until I wasn’t sure whether the orgasm that had torn through me was a memory or a state of being that I would exist in until the end of my days. 

I’m not sure how I got from his arms to my back on the deck, but the next thing I knew I was looking up at him as he stood above me, staring down at me as he folded up the sleeves of his somehow still crisp looking shirt. I could see the faded dark mark on his arm as he did it, and it sent a shiver through me that had nothing to do with distaste. This… the way he carefully cuffed his shirtsleeves before he went to work on me… Merlin, it was devastating. 

“Do you know how difficult this has been for me?” he asked as he fell to his knees, a disapproving look on his face as he traced his finger down the side of my cheek. The same finger he’d just used to send me over the edge, I realized. “Hearing you beg for my cock every chance you get, like you’re hungry for it, when I  _ know _ that what’s best for you is to wait?” 

“You can’t know that,” I said before I could think better of it. He cut me a dark look as he crawled over me, his knees between my splayed ones. I realized then that both of our trousers were still on, and the thought made me frown. 

“You think I haven’t thought about giving it to you? Letting you take it?” He was nose level with me now, and I could see the silver in his eyes, gleaming bright as his right hand reached down and began to tug my slacks and thong down my thighs. “Baby girl, I’ve imagined it so often I can tell you  _ exactly _ what it would be like.” 

His knees blocked my clothes from going any further and I reached up to stroke his cheek. The movement made him flinch for a second before his eyes drifted shut and he leaned into my touch. 

“Tell me,” I whispered, licking my dry lips. “Tell me what you’ve imagined.”

Eyes still closed, he smiled, the grin feral as he lowered his body against mine. I could feel him bulging through his trousers, pressed tight against my naked sex as I arched against him. 

“It’s… too much,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I don’t want to—” he cut himself off, pressing his forehead to mine as I continued to cup his cheek. 

“What is it?” I asked. 

“I don’t want to scare you,” he confessed at last. He didn’t open his eyes as he spoke, and so I tilted my face up until I could kiss the tip of his nose. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever been afraid of you,” I said, my voice soft. “I’m not sure I could be.” 

He groaned. “You’d tempt a saint, wouldn’t you?” 

I laughed softly, and I was acutely aware that he was still pressed against me through the fabric of his own slacks. I was still sensitive from the climax he’d given me, it seemed, and I pulsed beneath him. “Please tell me.” 

His breath hitched and he swallowed, his brows furrowed and his eyes shut tight now. 

“Is that what you want? You want to hear what the wolf wants with you?”

“You’re not a wolf,” I protested, but at the words he growled, his eyes flying open in all their shining silver glory and his teeth bared. 

“I  _ am _ ,” he insisted. “I’m more wolf than man sometimes, I think.” He thrust against me, sharp and hard, and I gasped. “Like now.” He leaned in, my hand slipping from his face as he rubbed first his nose and then his cheek against mine. “All I want right now is to fill you. Not just with this though,” he gave another sharp thrust between my thighs and I quivered, wrapping both arms around his neck and clinging to him as I felt the tension begin to build again. 

“No,” he continued. “I want to fill you with my  _ scent _ . I want to paint you with my tongue and my teeth and my seed. Want to spill so deep inside of you you’ll never be able to get me out again.” 

I whimpered at the thought. It was base, primitive, but a piece of me wanted it too. 

“Would you like that, do you think? Letting me fuck you until no one on earth would be able to tell where I ended and you began? Like to let me come inside of you… right here—” another thrust, “Until you’re overflowing with what only I can give you?” 

And the truth was, I  _ did _ like the thought of it, and my body proved the fact as he ground against me again and my already slippery folds grew wetter… hotter. 

Regulus growled again. “Fuck, princess, you  _ would _ like it, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” I breathed. “So much.” 

“Merlin, you’re a fucking gift,” he groaned. And then he was thrusting with abandon, the thick ridge of him rubbing right up against the most sensitive parts of me as I mewled for him and he wound a fist in my hair, holding me still against the deck as he moved above me. 

“Can hardly wait to have you, love. Can hardly wait to feel you pulsing around this cock while I take you. Want to hear you beg for it.” 

“Regulus, please!” 

His words were ratcheting me higher, his grinding driving me toward another incendiary peak I wasn’t sure now would give me the relief I really craved. 

“Come for me again, Hermione, show me how much you want it. How much you need me.” 

I screamed as I orgasmed, the sweet sting of it washing over me all at once, an ache and a caress together that pulsed throughout my whole body, starting between my thighs and radiating outward like a wave returning to the ocean, only to build again to another peak.

“Reg… What are you—” 

“You didn’t think I was done with you, did you, baby girl?” He chuckled darkly as he continued to thrust against me, one large hand caressing my cheek again as the fist in my hair tugged tightly. “After all,” he said, leaning down to brush his lips against my neck. “I still have interest to pay.” 

  
  



	16. Oh, are you taking that off?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m soooooo sorry it has taken this long for me to post again. My depression and anxiety got to be a lot, and then once that got better I was out of the habit and busy with some part time work. Things seem to be slowing down again though, and I managed to finish this chapter today! I hope you like it!

**Chapter Sixteen**

Apparently, Regulus seemed to believe that he had accrued quite a lot of  _ interest _ , and was determined to pay it in full at every opportunity. After he’d driven me to begging on the deck, he’d dragged me inside for another bout, this time with his mouth on my quim and his fingers laying against my rear in a delightful way that had me keening before he was done. At that point, we’d taken a break, and I’d realized he’d kept his shirt and trousers on the entire time. The bastard. 

How he managed it, I would never know, but aside from the few times he’d let me touch his cock, he seemed to have a special knack for making me come completely undone without so much as removing his belt. 

Which made watching him undress now a special treat indeed. 

“Oh, are you taking that off?” I asked, feigning disinterest as he began to unbuckle his belt. “I thought you might swim in slacks and an oxford as well.” 

He arched a dark brow, pausing before he gave me a wicked smile. “You like me in dress clothes.” 

“Considering I’ve never seen you out of them, I’m not sure that’s saying much.” 

He chuckled softly. “You’ve seen me in a t-shirt.” 

“Oh yes, positively immodest.” 

He pulled the belt through the loops of his trousers and tossed it onto the bed. “You’ve had my cock in your throat,” he said gently. 

I swallowed. “Yes,” I agreed. “And how we managed that without my ever having seen you shirtless is honestly a mystery.” 

He laughed again, unbuttoning his trousers as I sat on the bed beside his belt and reclined with my hands behind my head, taking in the view. I had already changed into my bathing costume, a two piece with a great deal of lined lace and a halter that tied at the nape of my neck. I wore a robe as well for decency's sake, and because I had worried as I’d dressed during a rare moment of solitude that we’d never actually make it to the beach if I didn’t. 

“I’ve been a little preoccupied," he said, lowering the zip and then pulling the trousers down his thighs, leaving him in a set of tight pants that left little to the imagination and ended mid thigh. 

“Breathe, baby girl.” 

I inhaled at the reminder, blushing and letting my gaze skate down to the tops of his thighs that were visible, dusted with coarse dark hair and more bronzed than they had a right to be for a man who never took off his fucking clothes. 

“Like what you see?”

I arched a brow. “You know I do.” 

Regulus smiled, hooking his thumbs casually into the waistband of his pants and tugging just a bit before pausing. “Would you like to see more?” 

I shrugged, forcing myself to look at the ceiling and feign disinterest. “Oh it's nothing I haven’t seen before,” I teased. 

I didn’t have to see him to sense his displeasure at the tone, and before I knew it, something soft was landing on my chest. I looked down, noting the blackness of the fabric and realizing it was his briefs before my eyes snapped back toward where he stood. 

_ Had _ stood. 

“Regulus?” I sat up on the bed and his briefs slid down to my lap as I scanned the room for him. In another moment, his head popped out from inside the bathroom door. He was grinning.

“Yes?” 

Oh the bastard. He thought he could just tease me and then walk away to dress behind closed door and I’d sit there like a good girl and allow it? 

I narrowed my gaze, and then raised a hand toward him, palm up, fingers outstretched. 

“Accio bathing suit.”

Watching his grey eyes widen was satisfying as his trunks flew through the open door and landed on my hand. 

“Did you just—” 

“I did.” 

He stared, dumbfounded for several seconds before he finally shook his head and then made his choice. I half expected he’d turn and grab a towel to cover himself before coming after me, but instead he shrugged and strode into the room, his shirt still neatly buttoned but his legs and cock on full,  _ proud _ display. 

Merlin, every time I lost sight of the damned thing I seemed to forget how impressive it really was, and as he moved, it swayed, as hypnotic as any snake. 

“I’ll need those,” he said when he reached the foot of the bed, holding out a single hand for what I’d taken from him. 

I bit my lip but complied, passing the trunks over and watching as he pulled them on over powerfully hewn thighs that looked like they could crush me without any effort at all. And then, because he was apparently unphased, he turned his back as he began to unbutton his shirt, robbing me of the view I think I’d craved most as he walked back toward the bathroom. 

“Regulus.” He paused when I said his name, and I wanted him to stop completely so I said it again. “Regulus, please stay.” 

His body was nearly as taut as my nerves while I waited, and then he was turning again until I could see his face and the tanned sliver of skin exposed by the loose buttons of his shirt. 

“You want to watch?” he asked, his voice husky.

I nodded. “Yes, please.” 

His strong hands moved back to the buttons of his shirt, working them open slowly as my eyes were riveted by the deft movements. His hands were talented, I’d  _ known _ that, but there was something about watching them work over his own body that thrilled me. 

At long last, he reached the last button, pausing and inhaling deeply before he undid it and then tugged the shirt over his broad shoulders, letting the clean white linen fall to the floor with the whisper of a rustle and no fanfare at all. When it was gone, and he was left in nothing but the swimming trunks and his own skin, I let myself admire him the way he’d admired me in the past. My gaze skated from the tips of his toes to his ankles, up over his calves and thick thighs… over the bulge of his cock. And then it settled on his stomach.  _ Merlin _ . Had any many ever had abs as chiseled as his? The valleys and grooves and tight skin with a line of dark hair leading upward to his chest was nothing short of glorious, and I couldn’t help but count all six of the distinct muscles outlined there. 

“Good god,” I breathed. “This is what you’ve been hiding behind those bloody shirts?” 

He chuckled with what sounded like relief, and the movement made his whole body ripple in the light filtering in through the nearby window. The movement was enough to highlight every line, and as it did I noticed something I hadn’t before. 

There, just below his ribs, was a scar. It looked old and silvered over, but it was definitely raised. A crescent, perhaps. 

And on the opposite side, another one. Just above his hip too, this one with a matching crescent visible opposite it. And on his chest… on his shoulders. God, on his arms high up as well. He was covered in them, his skin absolutely littered with the marks, and though they did nothing to detract from the sheer virility of him… the profound, achingly handsome  _ shape _ of his body… Merlin, they looked as if they had hurt. 

“What happened?” I breathed, my heart aching for the pain that had been inflicted on him, long before we had ever met. 

He shrugged as if the answer didn’t matter, as if he could hardly remember. “It was a long time ago.” 

“Regulus…” I moved on the bed, up onto my knees and then toward the edge where he stood until I was close enough that when I reached out, I could trace the scars over his hip with my fingertips. They were rough to the touch and he shuddered involuntarily at the contact. 

“It was war, Hermione. We all have scars.” 

“Not like these,” I protested. “Not so many. Was this— Was this how you were turned?” I could hardly bear the thought. How old had he been at the end of the war? Seventeen? Eighteen? Certainly no more than twenty. Younger than me. How had he survived? How had he coped?

His hand settled on my jaw before I realized he was reaching for me, and he tilted my chin up until my gaze met his. He didn’t look upset or unhappy with me… if anything, he looked  _ concerned _ . For me. 

“Yes,” he said simply, an answer to my question. 

I let myself look down at one of the scars marring the otherwise perfect skin of his shoulder. “So they’re all… bites?” 

He nodded. “They don’t hurt,” he said, his thumb brushing over my cheek, a small comfort. 

“Anymore, you mean.” 

“No, not anymore.” 

“But when they—” I swallowed, noticing a scar just below his collar bone. 

“Yes.” 

“How did they— I mean, why you?”

His smile was grimly sardonic. “I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, crossing the wrong person.” 

“Voldemort?” Who else could have done such a thing? I had known Regulus was once a Death Eater… but I also knew he had turned. Could  _ this _ have been the bastard’s punishment? 

He nodded again, his thumb stroking my lower lip now. “I was young,” he said. “Foolish. I learned one of his secrets and thought I could take care of it on my own.” 

I tore my gaze from the scars on his chest and met his eyes. “He caught you?” 

Regulus shook his head. “No. There were safeguards… I was… I valued my life very little in those days.” 

“But that’s ridiculous,” I cried, “You’re life is worth more than—” 

He cut me off with the pressure of his thumb to my mouth and his forehead pressed to mine. “Luckily, Kreacher agreed with you,” he rumbled. “I’d ordered him to save himself… to leave me, but the disobedient little bastard had other plans.” 

The relief that welled in my chest had no explanation. I had  _ known _ he was fine. He was here with me, after all, his skin touching mine, his heart beating inches away from my own… still, I almost wanted to weep. “I always knew I liked him.” 

Regulus chuckled. “He pulled me out of a lake of Inferi a mile wide, nursed me back to health, and—” 

“Wait.” My eyes flew open and I pulled my face from his. “Inferi?” I looked back down at the scars, inspecting them. “But I thought this was when you’d been turned. I thought—”

“It was.” He took my face in his hands, his palms against my cheeks as he drew my gaze back up to his. “One of the corpses was infected. It was  _ kind _ enough to pass on the affliction.” He paused then, his eyes breaking from mine and his hands dropping to his side and he looked down between up as he seemed to search for the words. The hesitancy in him made my heart ache. 

“Do they… I can glamour them, if they’re disconcerting,” he offered after a moment, and my heart shattered into a trillion little slivers. 

“What? Regulus,  _ no _ !” This time, it was my turn to grab  _ him _ by the face, and force him to look me in the eye. “ _ No _ .” 

“I’d understand if—” 

“No.”

“Honestly, it would be—” 

“I swear to Circe, if you don’t stop this instant I’m going to shove this diamond I’m wearing down your throat.” 

His eyes widened with shock and amusement, and I let myself look at the scars again, let my eyes trace them from the highest to the lowest, cataloguing what I could see and filing them away so that I would never be surprised by them again. 

“You’re a bloody war hero,” I said, once I’d finished, focusing on his face again and making sure he could hear every ounce of conviction in my tone. “You fought a monster and you won. I don’t know exactly what you’ve been through, but Regulus, I know enough to understand that the war couldn’t have been won without you. And these?” I traced the silvery curve of one of the scars with my fingertips. “They don’t bother me any more than this does.” With my other hand, I touched the remnants of the Dark Mark he’d worn in his youth. “All they do is prove to me what sort of man you are.” I leaned in and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Brave.” A kiss to the opposite cheek. “Strong.” And another to his forehead. “And far too good for a posh girl whose only scars are tiny, and completely uninteresting.” 

He laughed, a deep masculine sound, and one of his arms wound around my waist, tugging me forward and against him. 

“What scars?” he asked, still laughing. “I’ve been all over this delectable body of yours and haven’t seen a single one.” 

I tilted my head back, letting his nuzzle the crook of my neck and carding a hand through his hair as my other skated along the skin of his back, reveling in the heat. “Well then, maybe you ought to have another look.” 

“Maybe I should,” he rumbled, just as one of his hands caught the bow at the front of my robe, tugging it loose until the whole thing was gaping open, leaving me nearly bare for him. 

And I had been right. Without the robe, we never made it to the beach. 

*****

At some point, I had stopped wondering at his control and started cursing it. 

“Oh fuck.” I couldn’t help the words as they spilled out, any more than I could help the flood of heat between my thighs or the trembling of my body as I came. 

Regulus kissed the inside of my thigh, his tongue tracing a line upward to the crease and then over again, like a cat at its cream. “Another?” he murmured, and I shuddered at the thought. 

“No, daddy. Please.” 

Another kiss to sensitive skin. 

“What’s wrong, princess?” 

A slow lick up the seam of my sex, making me quiver. 

“I can’t… Oh god.” 

He zeroed in on my already throbbing and sensitized clit as if summoned by magic, sucking it into his mouth with a magnificent pressure as my back arched off the bed and my damp hair clung to my cheeks. “Fuck,” I gasped, my hands fisting in the sheets beside me again. Regulus’s hands tightened on the backs of my thighs, dragging me down the bed and harder against his mouth, like he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t drink enough of me in. 

Soon, one of his hands wandered from the back of my leg to between them, his fingers delving between my folds and dipping into the slick heat of me. Curling. 

I came off the bed again with a gasp as the pressure built and he pressed relentlessly against it, demanding more even as my sex pulsed around him. 

“Once more for me baby girl.” More pressure against the sensitive, swollen flesh within as he murmured against my clit, “Show me how much you love my fingers inside of you. I want you dripping over my tongue.” 

I couldn’t stop it any more than I’d been able to stop myself the last dozen times, and I shrieked as my body followed his direction, exploding again as he lapped eagerly between my thighs, removing his fingers so that he could grab me by the hips and pull me into him. As I came down, my pulse thumping in my own ears and my chest heaving with shaking pants, he drank me in, licking me clean and then pressing another soft kiss to my mound before sliding up my body again. My clit still pulsed as he abandoned it, my pussy swollen and sensitive and throbbing, seemingly confused about whether it wanted more or wanted rest. 

“You’re beautiful.” Regulus’s chest vibrated against my arm as he complimented me and then dropped a kiss against the top of my head. “Just look at you.” 

I followed his gaze down over my body, noting the sheen of sweat and the love bites he’d left on my hips and ribs. The tip of my breasts were swollen and pink from his attention, and shining with my own release, lovingly coated there by his hand. 

_ You should smell like this everywhere _ he had said as he’d circled one areola with his slick finger, grinning down at me with silver eyes and a self satisfied grin. 

This time, however, he lifted his fingers—still wet with my arousal—to his lips. His eyes locked on mine as he tasted them,  _ savored  _ them. His nostril flared as he moaned with satisfaction, and his eyes fluttered shut for an instant before refocusing on me. “I’ll never get enough of you,” he said, his voice rasping. 

His fingers dipped back between my thighs for a moment, making me whine when he withdrew them and then traced them in a line over my throat. My cheeks, already warm from our play, grew hot, but he didn’t seem to mind. He leaned in, nuzzling my neck and sighing in satisfaction until he reached the diamond which had settled against the hollow of my throat. He paused, kissing it once before he laid his cheek against my chest, just over my heart. I could feel his breath, warm against my damp flesh, and the stubble at his jaw scraping my skin lightly. 

“I don’t think he’ll ever be able to let you go.” The words were so quiet I nearly missed them. I lifted my head, peering down at the top of his and settling my hand on his shoulder. I could feel the rough texture of a crescent scar beneath my palm. 

“Who?”

His arm snaked around my waist and his hand settled on my opposite hip. “The wolf.” 

My heart beat faster in my chest, and I knew he could hear it, probably feel it against his face too. “Is that so?”

“Mhm.” He lifted his head to peer up at me, his gaze clear and grey. “He finds you…” His voice trailed off and he pressed his cheek to the swell of my breast this time. 

“Finds me what?” I tried to keep my voice steady, but I knew he would be able to sense the quickening of my pulse, the shallowing of my breath. 

He exhaled again and pressed a tender kiss to my pebbled nipple before he answered. “Essential.”

It was not the word I was expecting—honestly I wasn’t sure what I  _ had _ expected—but it shot through me all the same. 

_ Essential _ . Like oxygen or water or my wand. Like the blood in my veins and the heart in my chest. It was a weighty, important word. It spoke volumes. And I was damned if it didn’t feel like the truth. Not just for him, but for myself as well. Sometime since I’d met him, he had become important to me. No. More than important. More than oxygen or blood or the racing heart in my chest. 

It was terrifying. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” Regulus pushed himself off of me, resting on his side at my elbow and watching me with a furrowed brow. 

“I’m not scared.” 

He frowned. “Hermione—“

“I’m not, I swear. It’s just… intense.” I winced. There had to be a better word to describe what I was feeling. “I’ve never been…” I struggled for the words and he waited there beside me, patient and steadfast, watching with sincerity as his fingertips moved to stroke the inside of my wrist between us, as if he couldn’t bear not touching me. “I’ve never been  _ wanted _ like this.”

His eyes flashed silver for just a moment, and his fingers stilled on my wrist. 

“The way the wolf in me wants you, you mean?”

I nodded, unsure of myself for the first time in hours. 

“Because he  _ does _ want you,” Regulus continued. “Wants you all to himself to protect and provide for… to  _ fuck _ .” 

I swallowed. It was almost disconcerting, the way he spoke of the wolf, as if he were a separate being entirely. As if it existed beyond him… outside of him. 

The next moment I heard my own voice again. “And Regulus? What does he want?” 

He grinned, his teeth straight and white and gleaming as he leaned in toward me, pushing me fully onto my back again and pressing his lips to my cheek before he spoke. “Oh he wants to fuck you too,” he said, his tone wicked. “Wants to see you shiver for him while you come again.” 

I only had a moment to wonder whether that was  _ all _ he wanted before his head disappeared between my thighs once more, and I stopped wondering anything at all. 


End file.
